Mistaken Destiny
by Laura1
Summary: An accidental pregnancy forces Buffy into marriage with Riley and her life goes downhill from there, until a chance meeting with Angel complicates things even further. Now married with a baby, can she ever find happiness with her first love?
1. Default Chapter

_Disclaimer ~ _Nope, sorry, I still don't own them. Though, if Joss should ever want to pass Angel on to a good home, I'd be more than willing to take him in. For purely altruistic reasons, obviously. 

_Dedication ~ _I hereby pay homage to Trixie Firecracker, whose excellent writing has inspired more than one of my fics. 

_Timeline ~ _Jumps around a bit at first, but basically is set after the end of S4, thus neatly side-stepping the whole Dawn/Glory story arc. 

_Author's Notes ~ _Right. Some of the contents of this fic are a little dark and disturbing (such as the symptoms of Buffy's post-natal depression), but I was just trying to paint an accurate picture of the very upsetting nature of mental illness, so don't say I didn't warn you. I have to apologise too for the excessive amounts of B/R in this fic, the initial pairing was essential for the plot, but don't lose faith, there is actually B/A happy ending! And finally, before I shut up and let you get on with reading, I got bored halfway through checking this for mistakes, so any errors are solely due to my laziness!

~~~

The wedding is a small affair. Just a few friends and a small ceremony at the courthouse. No grand church with tall stained-glass windows pouring in beautiful coloured light. No majestic organ music. No six-tiered wedding cake with the little sugar bride and groom on the top. No childhood fantasy.

I don't even have the huge meringue-shaped dress, with the train that stretches so far behind you that the little flower girls trip over it as they try to follow you up the aisle. Instead there is just a plain white satin gown, tailored especially to fit over my bulging stomach. And in my hands where there is supposed to be a luscious bouquet of creamy lilies and sweetly scented roses, there is only a simple spray of wildflowers. 

Nothing seems real, it's like a dream – no, a nightmare, because this isn't supposed to be happening to me, this isn't supposed to be my life. The atmosphere is sombre, oppressive, nothing like a wedding should be. My eyes should be shining with happiness and love when I say 'I do', not brimming with unshed tears. 

As the courthouse official begins another long and droning speech, I glance around me, longing to ease my hand out of Riley's tight grip. His palm is sweaty and clammy and it's making my skin feel hot and sticky. The whole room is far too warm, I think the air conditioning must be broken or something. My mouth is dry and my flesh prickly and all I want to do is turn around and run out. Run into the cool, fresh air. Keep running until day turns to night and I am bathed in the moonlight once more. 

But I just stay standing still.

My future mother-in-law catches my eye, her expression disapproving. Her dislike of me is obvious. I think she thinks I'm some kind of Californian hussy, who seduced her darling son and forced him into marrying her. That's okay because I think she's an interfering, prudish bitch. Riley, though, idolises her and can't stop going on about how great it will be to live nearer to both his parents, how I'll love the farm with all the open space for the kids (and he's already talking in plural here) to play in. 

I haven't seen the house yet. I claimed I wanted it to be a surprise, some romantic notion of being carried across the threshold of our brand new home. But in reality I just couldn't face going there, to the tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Riley's shown me pictures of where he grew up and it frightened me. The land was just flat and it stretched out endlessly into the distance. Field, upon field, upon field of corn and cows and nothingness. I guess the idea of that empty silence freaks me out a little and I was worried that if I experienced it before the wedding then I might not be able to go through with any of it. That whatever meagre self-control I have left inside me will just snap, and I'll break completely.

Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to move to Iowa in the first place, but Riley was so enthusiastic about it. He made such a convincing argument about house prices being lower – we could get a nice little farmhouse with a white picket fence outside and a yard for the dog (that we just had to get) to run around in, for the same price as a one-bedroom apartment in California. And then there was the safety aspect, Sunnydale is a dangerous place, we really shouldn't be bringing children up on the Hellmouth, it was bad for them. I wanted to say that Willow and Xander had both grown up here and they came out fine, but I didn't. I smiled weakly and said sure whatever, we'll move, because I didn't care where we lived. I didn't care about anything anymore. 

Sometimes I wonder what happened. How I ended up here, trapped in this moment, this entire life. _This isn't me!_ Of all the things I imagined for my future this was never one of them. I thought I'd be stuck as the Slayer forever, until I died an unnaturally early death. Now I found a get out clause. I'll never slay another vampire again. I'll never be that headstrong young girl who traded quips with monsters and sat on gravestones waiting for her lover with eyes as dark as night and pale skin shining in the starlight. 

Buffy Summers is gone. Dead to the world. She died as soon as the new life was born in her stomach.

~~~

_I hadn't really thought it possible. I didn't believe it at first, or maybe I just didn't want to. It was August, sweltering hot and I'd been off my game for a while. In the slaying department, that is. I'd been feeling tired, lethargic. I wasn't hungry, couldn't eat and when I did eat I usually vomited afterwards. More vampires were getting away from me, and one evening a particularly nasty demon slashed open my ribcage. The blood spread in a red cloud across the front of my pristine white t-shirt, and I remember being annoyed that the top was ruined then the next thing I knew I was in the hospital. _

_ _

_When I was there in front of the doctor, it all came out, the exhaustion, the nausea, the deep aching in my bones. He said he'd run some tests, see what was wrong. Then he asked could I possibly be pregnant. I laughed at him, so hard that I nearly burst my stitches. Looking back, I was probably more hysterical than amused. Pregnant! With Riley Finn's baby! No, it couldn't be happening. It wasn't happening. I'd always been so careful, took my pills at the prescribed time, insisted that Riley wear a condom. The last thing I'd ever wanted was to be was one of those teenage moms, who strolled the streets with their baby carriages and their little, chocolate-smeared brats in tow. _

_ _

_I shook my head vehemently. There was no way, no how I was pregnant. They did the test anyway. They sent my blood off to take glucose and thyroxin and God knows what other levels and at the same time they said they might as well just dip it for hormone levels. Just to make absolutely sure. _

_ _

_Well, they were in the end. After I'd had them redo the test about three times I think everyone was sure. Not one person had a single solitary doubt. Apart from me. I still didn't accept it. I couldn't accept it, because it destroyed everything I'd ever hoped for in my life. It destroyed me._

_ _

_After they discharged me from hospital, I went to see Willow. The first thing I did was burst into tears. No words, no explanations, just bitter, heartfelt sobbing. She'd been so worried about me then, she thought I'd just found out I was dying or something. That made me laugh too. If it was death I had to face then I probably would have been much calmer. Eventually, I told her, I found the strength in me to utter the two little words that finally made it real._

_ _

_"I'm pregnant."_

_ _

_"Oh, Buffy," Willow's mouth dropped open and her face fell. "I-I don't know what to say."_

_ _

_I forced a tearful smile. "I don't know what to say either." She held me for a long, long time as I cried away all my dreams and fantasies, as I reconciled myself to the future I'd never wanted, the one I was now stuck with. But then that's my life all over, isn't it? I'm always the one landed with the responsibilities I never wanted. _

_ _

_"What are you going to do?" Willow eventually asked._

_ _

_I grimaced, wiping my eyes roughly with the back of my hand. "I don't see what I can do. I'm gonna have the baby, I guess. Be a mom, have Riley be a dad."_

_ _

_"You could always…you know…"_

_ _

_"Have an abortion?" I shook my head. "I couldn't. I don't think I could ever bring myself to go through with it. Besides, I don't think Riley would very readily agree to murdering his baby."_

_ _

_"It's not murder and it's not his decision," Will told me gently. "It's your body."_

_ _

_"And it's his baby," I snapped back at Willow, just the thought of it making me feel sick again. Riley's baby growing inside me. I wanted to tear open my stomach right there and then and pull it out. Somebody pass me a knitting needle, please, because I can't bear this…this _thing,_ this foreign object, inside me any longer. Somehow the issue never became about _my _baby, _my _child. In my mind it was always Riley's baby, my problem. _

_ _

_Truth be told I didn't really ever think I'd live long enough to have kids. Slayer's have short lifespans, it's an accepted fact. And that never bothered me particularly. I'd always lived in the moment. I worried about the next five minutes, not the next five years. My idea of planning ahead was making a date for next weekend. The big picture wasn't something I routinely looked at, probably because to do so would have been a little too scary. _

_ _

_I saw it once. I caught a glimpse of dark-haired, serious children, with huge eyes that gazed up into your very soul. I felt cool kisses and strong arms encircling me. And then it was all lost, a house of cards collapsed, a fragile dream blown away on the breeze. Ironic, how the only man I ever wanted the big things with – the wedding and the children and the forever – was the only one I could never have. _

_ _

_A sudden thought occurred to me, the realisation almost physical in nature, hitting me in the solar plexus and stealing my breath away. "God, what am I going to tell him?" I blurted out to Willow._

_ _

_She patted my hand comfortingly. "Riley will be fine about it, Buffy. He's one of those responsible, reliable types – he'll make a great father."_

_ _

_I shook my head desperately. "No, not Riley, I'm not worried about his reaction. Angel. What am I going to tell Angel?" I wrung my hands despairingly, imagining what my former lover will think of me now. His reaction to Riley leapt into my mind. The heartbreak and pain in his eyes when I told him._

_ _

_//"I have someone in my life now…"//_

_ _

_//"You actually _sleep_ with this guy?"//_

_ _

_//"I don't like him."//_

_ _

_Being pregnant with somebody else's child pretty much killed all my secret hopes of Angel and I ever getting back together. In fact it pretty much killed all hope of ever seeing him again. He would be horrified by my behaviour, that I actually managed to get myself into this situation. And Riley hates him, he'd do anything to keep us apart. _

_ _

_God, what a mess. Riley was my rebound guy, my attempt at a calm, friendly relationship to contrast with the blind passion I had with Angel. I was supposed to date him for a while, go through some comfy handholding, a minor sexual awakening and then move on. Grow up, decide what and who (as if I didn't already know) I wanted in life. I wasn't supposed to get stuck with his kid. _

_ _

_Willow glanced up at me, surprised. "I-I guess, Angel's gonna have to find out sooner or later."_

_ _

_I looked down at my stomach and ran my hands over its flat, muscular planes. There was a baby growing inside there, a whole new being. I found the thought more horrifying than amazing. In nine months time my body and my life would be unrecognisable. Willow was right. This wasn't something I could hide from the world. And it wasn't going to go away either, no matter how much I wished it would._

~~~

The ceremony completed, Riley leans over to kiss me. His lips on mine feel wrong, alien, like they're not meant to be there. The baby kicks and I wince in pain, glad for a momentary excuse to drop the forced smile from my face. Riley frowns in concern and rubs the small of my back, uttering soothing words that mean nothing to my ears.

"Gonna take after his daddy," he grins. "Gonna be the star of the football team, aren't you son."

He pats my belly uncomfortably, making me feel sick again. So much for morning sickness – the nausea has been almost constant throughout the whole of the last eight months. Pregnancy is supposed to make you glow radiance and health, but it hasn't been like that with me at all. I just got sicker and sicker, like the thing inside me wasn't a baby at all but a parasite, draining all my energy and spirit. After the first month I couldn't slay anymore, I was just too weak. And then in my third month I collapsed at college. The doctor took my blood pressure and found it to be sky high. I was ordered to stay at home. Total bed rest for the next sixth months. It's been driving me crazy ever since. 

I was always an active person, always rushing around with about five million things to do at once. And to be forced into just stopping all that was nearly more than I could cope with. I had to give up school, patrolling, my social life. And I became utterly dependent upon Mom and Riley. Anything I wanted they had to provide for me. If I wanted to leave the house one of them had to go with me. What I did, what I ate, the people I saw, it was all mediated through them. I found it unbearable at first, but bit by bit my resistance faded. I learnt to live with the situation, to be helpless and housebound. I just came to accept whatever the situation threw at me. I resigned myself to it all.

This new attitude worried my friends a little at first. They missed their fiery, feisty, insolent Buffy and didn't like the new wilted version. But as the months progressed I began to see less of them. They were busy with their own lives and didn't have time to hang out with their heavily pregnant friend. Giles even praised the personality change I had gone through. He thought I'd grown up, moved into a new phase in my life. I didn't see Giles much after that day, we just sort of drifted apart. His role as my Watcher was defunct, and now that I was nearly a married woman with a child, he didn't think I needed a father figure anymore.

He is a guest at the wedding today and dressed in a smart grey suit. One should always wear grey for weddings, he explains, rather than black. Black is the colour of death, of funerals. I glance over at Riley's black tuxedo and think how appropriate it probably is. Something inside me died today. I hug Giles and tell him that I will miss him when we move. The truth is I miss him already, I miss the connection we had and have now lost forever. 

Mom gets in the car next to me as we drive off towards the nearby restaurant for the reception. She squeezes my hand tightly, leaning over to whisper in my ear. 

"I always cry at weddings, don't you?"

I turn around to look at her, my eyes huge and sad, not daring to let the tears fall, because I don't want to disappoint her or Riley or any of the others. I don't want to ruin my picture perfect day. Just imagine the bride in the wedding photographs with mascara track marks running down her cheeks. Instead I just lean my head against her shoulder, seeking the last bit of comfort I possibly can from my Mommy, before I will have to be the strong one for my child, the one who copes through the tears and the stress and the tantrums. 

It strikes me how wonderful Mom has been throughout all of this, how tolerant and supportive. At first she was shocked and she was mad. She yelled at me. How could I possibly have let this happen? Pregnant, at nineteen! Did I know what a mess I'd made of my life, exactly how much I'd screwed up my future? I simply nodded and burst out crying. And from that moment on she never said another cross word. She seemed to accept the idea better than I did. She liked Riley, thought he was a very courteous young man, and she was delighted when we announced we were getting married. In fact she went into SuperMom mode. She made wedding plans, bought baby clothes, recounted innumerable tales of me when I was a little girl. Then I told her Riley and I would be moving to Iowa once the baby was born, and her enthusiasm dwindled a little.

She told me in no uncertain terms that I was making a mistake. I would only be unhappy living in such a small, isolated community away from all my friends and family. I would be lonely, with no life, no job, no connections beyond my home and husband. That wasn't the type of person I was, not the life I should be leading. I told her coldly that I had already made the mistake, and now all I was doing was following it through. The subject never came up again. 

Riley gets in the car next to me, all smiles and upbeat comments. Well, I'm glad somebody here is happy, that this marriage is good for once of us. Sometimes I think that's the only reason why I'm going through with it, because it would kill Riley if I didn't. For some reason he seems to love me, or at least the person he thinks I am, he wants us to be a family, to have a future and that's all I'm trying to do now, give him what he wants. What I want ceased to matter a long time ago, when I realised that I could never have it. 

When we arrive at the reception, Cordelia greets me with a faint smile and an awkward hug. She apologises for being late. She was caught up in some business. A gang of crazy demons terrorising the citizens of LA. 

"You know how it is," she says. And I think that I used to, once upon a time.

I don't know why I invited her really, maybe because I thought she might bring _him_. I had a last ditch hope that Angel would show up and he'd see into my heart like he always does and know to take me away from all this. Or maybe I'd look at his face, through his eyes into his soul and remember what love really is – not legally binding contracts, or creating life, or cosy little houses with shutters on the windows, but dark, deep, consuming passion, a fire in your heart that will never be extinguished. And then I'd know everything I'm giving up to be here with Riley right now. I'd realise everything I'm condemning myself to and I wouldn't be able to go through with it.

But, of course, Angel hasn't come. Why would he? Why would he put himself through that? Seeing my body heavy with another man's child, my life pledged to someone else. I know if it was the other way around I couldn't be there. I couldn't sit back and watch Angel marry another woman. I couldn't bear the thought of her touching him, kissing him, hearing his voice whispering words of love into _her _ear. Call me selfish, but sometimes the only thing that gets me through, my one piece of comfort, is that he still loves me. That he still thinks of me and misses me, like I think of and miss him. 

Telling him was awful. It was the worst thing I have ever done. Well, maybe not the worst, because I sent him to Hell, remember? I shoved a sword through his belly and I killed him, and this felt like that moment all over again, only this time I had to look into his eyes afterwards and see the hurt and betrayal there. I wanted to chicken out. To write a letter or make a phone call, to have Xander or Willow accidentally drop the news into conversation one day. _Hi, Angel, I was in LA, just thought I'd drop by. I've been shopping. Buying Buffy and Riley a wedding present. Yeah, that's right they're getting married. Well, they kinda had to, what with the baby and all…_

_ _

But in the end I knew I owed it to him to see him face to face, to tell him personally exactly what a mess I made of my life. So, one weekend, when Riley was away in Iowa, I just upped and left, headed to LA without thinking about it, because the longer I thought the more excuses I would come up with not to go. When I arrived, I checked and rechecked the new address I had for him. It was a large, shambling building, but still grand and a little intimidating. In retrospect it was perfect for Angel really. Despite the month being October, it was still incredibly hot in LA, some freak heat wave or something, and a blanket of smog hung over the city making it difficult to breathe. Or maybe I would have found breathing a problem wherever I was, because Angel always did have that effect on me.

_ _

__I walked straight in through the wide double doors – it was a hotel, after all, so there was no need to knock, and I've always treated Angel's home as open to me anyway. Wherever he lived – his apartment, the mansion, the LA office – I would always just wander in without invitation, because I never felt I needed one. He let me into his heart, so I assumed that meant free entry to the rest of his life as well.

As soon as I walked in I knew the place belonged to Angel. I could just feel his presence there, even though I couldn't immediately see him, or in fact anybody. So, I just set about exploring the huge, maze of a building, not even bothering to call his name, because I knew we would find one another eventually, we always did. And I was right. A few minutes later, I was walking down a dark corridor with peeling wallpaper and broken light fittings, when he appeared right in front of me. He looked surprised, but sort of not, like he was almost expecting to turn the corner and see me standing just there, waiting for him. 

"Buffy?" He said my name as a question, a million other sentiments imbued within it. 

~~~

_ _

_"Angel," I reply. "Can…can we talk?"_

_ _

_He nods, his expression indiscernible in the shadows. "Sure, I was just doing some work on the ballroom – you should come see it."_

_ _

_I follow him down what seems like an endless labyrinth of corridors, finally emerging in a huge room, cavernous in its proportions, its ceiling reaching high, high up to the sky. The floor is parquet, now dusty and scratched and at one end there is a large stage, clearly once meant to hold a band. Moonlight floods in through giant windows, sparkling in little diamonds off the crystals of a broken chandelier, which stands dejectedly in the middle of the room._

_ _

_"Wow," I breathe. "This place must have been incredible."_

_ _

_He smiles slightly, a wistful look on his face. "It was, once."_

_ _

_Automatically, I reach over to touch his hand and as we contact a vision floods my mind. The hall filled with people, dancing, laughing, drinking, smoking. A rock and roll band plays on the stage and the room is filled with life and colour. The bright, swirling skirts of the women, the shine of polished wood and brass and the richness of heavy velvet curtains. The chandeliers are in place, two of them, hanging grandly and twinkling just like they should. _

_ _

_Then the vision is gone and I am left unsure as to whether this was a flight of my own imagination or an actual memory of Angel's. I withdraw my hand and it strikes me how difficult it must be to live through all this time, to see the years slip by and watch everything deteriorate and change around him while he stays forever the same._

_ _

_I twirl away from him, spinning like I am one of those carefree women from fifty years ago, my footsteps echoing hollowly in the empty air. "I feel like we should be dancing."_

_ _

_"There's no music."_

_ _

_I stop and look at him sadly, remembering the reason I came. "No, there isn't, is there?"_

_ _

_"You wanted to talk," he prompts me. _

_ _

_"Yes," I nod, blinking back the tears that I suddenly find have formed in my eyes. "There's nothing I need to tell you." I glance around at the dilapidated room, a place that has seen so much happiness and song, but that is now a shell of its former self. "Maybe we shouldn't do it here."_

_ _

_He looks at me quizzically. "Then where?"_

_ _

_I shake my head helplessly. "I don't know. Nowhere."_

_ _

_"I'm not going to like this am I?"_

_ _

_"No, no, you're not." I am crying properly now, my cheeks glistening with saltwater, by voice cracked and shaky. "I'm sorry. It wasn't meant to be like this."_

_ _

_"What wasn't?"_

_ _

_"Life, anything." I wipe my eyes ferociously with the back of my hand. "I had so many dreams."_

_ _

_He smiles slightly, but there is no humour behind the expression, only irony. "We all did."_

_ _

_"Riley and I are getting married," I blurt out before my brain can catch up with my mouth. Well, I had to say it sometime, or I never would have said it at all. _

_ _

_He freezes, not moving a single muscle. His face seems to lose all expression, like he's shut himself off from me; even his eyes are veiled. "Oh." He turns away from me. "Was that it then – your news?"_

_ _

_My stomach feels heavy, like I have swallowed a lead weight and my mouth is dry. "There's more. I-I, uh, well, I'm only marrying him because I have to." Once the words are out I feel something change irreversibly between us, because this is something I can never take back. Feelings change. Cruel words are uttered in anger and then retracted. Mistakes are made and rectified. But this, this is irredeemable. _

_ _

_"I'm sorry," I say again and he finally turns back around to look in my direction. His eyes don't focus on me, though, but through me, past me and around me. I want to make him see, make him gaze into my eyes and realise that I haven't changed. It's still me, it's still Buffy, I still love you! But I'm afraid, so I don't. _

_ _

_"What for?" He asks abruptly, some of his pain leaking into his voice._

_ _

_"For letting you down," I reply tearfully. "You wanted me to move on, to find someone who would make me happy, and I haven't managed either."_

_ _

_He stares at me blankly, his face so devoid of emotion it scares me. "I think maybe you should go, Buffy."_

_ _

_I don't want to, but I agree anyway, because I long ago stopped doing the things I wanted to. Right from the moment I let him walk away from me, I've been doing what I'm supposed to do instead. I've been acting like the mature adult, so no reason to stop now. After all, I'm having a baby – how much more mature can you get? _

_ _

_When we reach the door he leans over and kisses my forehead, so gently, so lightly, that I'm not sure he was ever there at all. Then he whispers in my ear. "Goodbye, Buffy." Only I cannot return it, so I just walk away._

_ _

~~~

_ _

Goodbye. We never said that before. We never could.

Today, however, it is a word that trips off my tongue easily. There are so many people I'm leaving and they all want a special sentiment from the bride and groom. But all my emotional farewells seem hollow and meaningless, since I can't quite believe I'm going. I'm standing here in my tent-like wedding dress, my hand with its plain gold band interlinked with Riley's, and it still all feels like a dream. 

I want to wake up now. Can I wake up? Please?

Willow cries when she hugs me and says her goodbye. I think I cry too, but I'm not sure, because the tears come so often now, that I can't tell the difference between when they're there and when they're not. She promises to write every day and I laugh at that, because if anyone could keep such a promise then it would be Will. 

Tara hugs me too, in her own soft, shy way. I wish I'd gotten to know her a little better, that I'd given her more of a chance. She and Will seem so _together_ somehow. I see them exchange little 'I love you' looks and smiles, and it makes me ache to remember what it was like to communicate your every feeling to a person with a single glance. It's strange, because I never thought it would work out for them. I actually thought Willow was crazy when she first told me. I mean, she's not a lesbian, right? But it's not like that between them. It's not a chance to experiment with something new or a passing phase. They're just two people who happened to fall in love, and that's exactly how it should be. 

Then Xander comes over. He ruffles my hair, grins and makes some trademark Xander comment. But his eyes are serious and it strikes me just how much he has changed. He's grown up in the past six months and he's actually making something of his life now. He's got a steady job and a nice apartment, and him and Anya are even still together. And I thought Will and Tara's relationship was strange. But then perhaps weird works. It keeps things fresh. When you're dating a thousand year old former demon, then you're never likely to run out of topics for conversation are you? And here I am in my normal relationship with my normal guy and I have nothing to say. How's that for irony.

Riley tugs on my arm, indicating that we have to leave soon. We're not having a honeymoon. We've told people it's because my pregnancy is too advanced for me to risk flying anywhere, but the truth is we can't afford one ourselves and Riley's parents refused to pay for it. They said they'd already given us a deposit for a house and that was enough of a wedding present. Riley suggested we head up to LA for a couple of days instead, but I couldn't face that idea. I couldn't be in the same city as Angel and pretend to be a happily married. So, eventually we decided we'd just drive straight to Iowa, stopping at a few little motels on the way. Riley has drawn up a whole schedule for us. How far we should manage to drive each day, places to stay and sights to see. His timetable depends upon us getting to the first motel on the state line by its eleven p.m. check-in time, which means we have go now.It doesn't matter I haven't finished saying goodbye – the schedule has been planned for weeks and it can't wait.

Hurriedly I embrace Giles, tears streaming down my face as I realise this will probably be the last time I see him. He told me before the wedding that he is planning on moving back to England, since he doesn't feel needed in America anymore. 

"Maybe, when the baby's a bit older I can come back and help with the slaying," I whisper hopefully to him before we part.

His shakes his head. "Don't worry about the Hellmouth, Buffy. We've got everything under control. You just concentrate on your new life now."

I smile at him sadly. "Thank you, Giles. You were a great Watcher."

He smiles back. "And you were an excellent pupil. Barring a few initial difficulties that is."

I giggle, remembering the girl I was then. Sixteen and filled with youthful determination and innocence. When did I get so old?

Mom is the last to say goodbye, placing a soft kiss on my cheek as she does so. "My little girl," she says with tears in her eyes.

"All grown up." I hug her tightly, finishing the sentence as I do so. Then I walk away with Riley to my new life.

I don't look back, not because I don't care, but because it's too painful to see what I'm leaving behind. 

_To be continued…_

_ _


	2. Chapter Two

The house in Iowa is everything I expected it to be, right down to the white picket fence surrounding the tidy front yard, and the wooden clapperboards, painted a faded pale yellow. Not quite picture postcard pretty, it needs some work doing on it – shutters mending and roof tiles replacing, that sort of thing – but this only makes Riley even happier. He comes home from working on his dad's farm every evening and gets his toolkit out. Then he whiles away the hours painting and sawing and hammering, doing just what a good husband should do. 

Life isn't so bad at first, not like I thought it was going to be. I'd imagined the sudden shock – a whole new way of a living, a new identity for myself, new places, new people – would have been difficult to cope with. But in a way it isn't at all. When I arrive there is so much stuff to do. There is the unpacking and the settling in and meeting all the neighbours. Instead of being strange and foreign, it is actually quite fun. No vampires, no demons, just Buffy getting to play house. 

But as the weeks pass the novelty begins to wear off. I realise that it's not just playing I'm doing. I can't pack up my toys and go home when I'm done. This is my home now, this is where I live – forever – and these places and people are my world. Gradually, Iowa and its hometown, backwater atmosphere starts to surround and choke me. It's insidious – it creeps into your mind and your heart and tries to steal all the memories you keep there. It tries to blanket you with its bland, humdrum ways, extinguishing all the fire in your heart.

And the people upset me too. They are the worst kind – all sugar and sweetness to your face then bad mouthing you behind your back. Gossip runs rife through the town – you cannot even have a visitor around to the house without the news being passed on to six different people before ten minutes have even passed. Whenever I speak to any of them, I feel like I'm being judged by their small-minded values, like there's some sort of test I have to pass before I can be admitted to the fold. I try to be polite and nice and accepted, but only for Riley's sake and for the baby's. Just because I don't fit into this kind of life, doesn't mean they should be ostracised by this society. So, whenever I meet a neighbour in the street or someone comes around to welcome me, I always smile and offer them coffee, even though the Slayer in me just want to tell them to get their heads out of their asses. Here they all are worrying about what colour Mr Martins from number thirty painted his shutters and whether Mrs Travis is having an affair with her gardener when there are people out there dying. 

I know what exists in the night. I know about vampires and evil and death. These are the things I was born to fight. I should be out there, living my destiny, saving people's lives, not here desperately trying to learn how to make apple pie that doesn't end up in a mush at the bottom off the dish. 

Yesterday I cried. I threw the pie dish across the room, smashing it against the wall, then collapsed in a heap, sobbing my eyes out. I never would have done that before, that's not the kind of person I am, or was. I wouldn't have let something as stupid as a visit from Riley's mother get to me like that. The old Buffy probably would have slapped her, yelled at her or something. Anything except just stand there and take her abuse.

She seems to think she can drop by any time she likes, doesn't even bother knocking, just lets herself in through the back door. When I tried to confront her about it, she just replied that it was her husband's money that paid for the place, so didn't she have a right to come and go whenever she wanted? There wasn't really anything I could say to that, because she was right. This isn't even my house. There's nothing of mine in it – no traces of Buffy whatsoever. Everything in it belongs to _her_. And I'm just some intruder tolerated for the sake of her misguided son.

"You're a very lucky young lady," she said to me. "Not many men would have been as easily tricked as Riley into marrying you."

I wanted to tell her that not many men would have got their girlfriend pregnant as quickly as Riley, but instead I just kept quiet. I vented my fury on the pastry in front of me; attacking it with the rolling pin and wondering why it was crumbling into little pieces, rather than making a nice flat circle like the picture in the recipe book. 

"I told him not to," Mrs Finn continued on blithely. "I told him it would be the worst mistake of his life, but he wouldn't listen. He had to do the right thing. We raised that boy to be far too noble for his own good," she preened. 

"Good for you," I muttered under my breath. 

"Excuse me?" She responded. "Did you say something? Because you have no right to be answering back to me. You're nothing but a common little hussy."

I spun around on her. "Don't ever call me that," I said in a shaky voice.

"Why not?" She asked. "It's true. I did some checking into your background. You were thrown out of your first high school for setting the place on fire, no less. Then you were a suspect in a murder investigation, following which you disappeared for three months running wild in LA. That's hardly the type of woman who's good enough for my son. So, I'd go minding your p's and q's around me, my girl, unless you want to be thrown out on your ear. Riley may not be able to see past your pretty blonde hair and your low cut dresses, but I can. And young men always listen to their mothers, just you mark my words."

I lifted the heavy rolling pin in the air, suddenly wanting nothing more than to smash it into her skull and see her fall lifeless to the ground. Then horrified by my own imagination, I dropped the makeshift weapon to the ground where it landed with a clatter. "Get out," I ordered. "GET OUT!"

She smirked at me, before strolling slowly out of the door, pausing as she did so to examine my cookery attempts. "You used too much flour – that'll never stick together."

I hurled the pastry dish after her, gaining only a tiny bit of satisfaction as it shattered into about a million pieces, sending globs of pie filling flying about the kitchen. Then I collapsed to the floor, sobbing out my broken heart, utterly convinced that this is all my life will ever be again. Failed cookery attempts, interfering mother-in-laws and a sense of total inadequacy. 

There is this little voice always in my head, always telling me how much I messed up. I threw away my whole life, my entire future, just because I thought some boy would like me better if I slept with him. Well, maybe that's a little unfair, because I wanted it too. I wasn't pressured or tricked into sex with Riley. It was just something I thought I should be doing, so I did it. I was a grown-up girl trying to have an adult relationship – only maybe I wasn't ready for that considering the fact that it all went horribly wrong.

I still don't know what happened. Maybe I was ill one day and it stopped my birth control from working. Perhaps I forgot to take one of the pills. I could even possibly be one of those mysterious 3% they talk about on the packet, when they give you false reassurances that 'this product is 97% effective'. But whatever happened, happened. As my grandmother was so fond of saying: you made your own bed, Buffy, and now you have to lie in it. 

~~~

Hospital walls fade in and out of my vision and the shouting of the doctors and nurses seems very far away all of a sudden. Odd phrases catch my attention. 

_"She's haemorrhaging…"_

_ _

_"Mr Finn, perhaps you should wait outside."_

_ _

_"Get that blood into her STAT!"_

_ _

_"But, but my wife… She's going to be okay, right? We just got married last month."_

_ _

_"Where the Hell is that anaesthetist?_

_ _

_"Page the OR – get them to prep for an emergency C-section."_

_ _

"We just got married last month. The baby's not even due for another two weeks. I don't understand what's happening…" 

I am vaguely aware that I'm probably dying, but I don't even care. As long as the pain has gone now, the pain that woke me up to blood soaked sheets at three a.m. this morning. The pain that ripped through my belly so fiercely, I felt like it were actually splitting open right there and then, as if the baby were trying to crawl out of it's own accord. 

Now, though, everything is fuzzy. My vision, my hearing, my awareness. And I sort of like it like that. It reminds me of the time I discovered beer and everything was hazy and nice. More than that it reminds me of the time Angel bit me. It's probably the blood loss making me giddy as it did then, but it makes me think that maybe that's what I was looking for in alcohol – a way to become light-headed and euphoric, a means to blur the edges between myself and my memories of _him_. 

A cool, clammy hand grips mine tightly and a large face looms in my vision. 

_"We're just going to put you to sleep now, Buffy. When you wake up you'll have a beautiful baby. Don't worry, everything's going to be okay."_

_ _

__Wake up… baby… everything's going to be okay…

_No. _I want to shake my head. How can she possibly even think that? Nothing's going to be okay ever again. 

_ _

~~~

_My eyes flutter open and the first thing I see is Angel standing at the foot of the bed, his expression as inscrutable as always. My heart floods with relief and I smile up at him._

_ _

_"I knew you'd come."_

_ _

_"I never really left," he replies. _

_ _

_Lowering my hand beneath the sheets I feel my stomach. It is as smooth and flat as always, the muscles taut as I remember them. But most significant of all there is no pain. The vast open wound that I was expecting isn't there either. "What happened to me?" I ask._

_ _

_Angel's eyes narrow slightly. "You married Riley – that's what happened."_

_ _

_I shake my head. "No, I mean, after that. What happened to the baby? I was having a baby."_

_ _

_"No, you weren't." Angel walks around the side of the bed as he answers._

_ _

_"Yes, yes, I was." I insist. "I remember…"_

_ _

_He looks at me strangely. "But how can you be having a baby that you never wanted? That you never loved?"_

_ _

_I think about this question for a while. He's right. I could never have a baby if I wasn't prepared to love it. That's not who I am. And I don't feel like a mother. I don't feel different at all really. But, but I was absolutely sure I was pregnant. I remember the ambulance and the doctors and the nurse with the clammy fingers. _

_ _

_"If I'm not having a baby, then what am I doing in the hospital?" I ask, glancing around at my surroundings. I am in a small, grey room, with no windows and not even a door that I can see. The walls and the ceiling and the floor are all totally blank. I shudder at the sight – this seems more like a prison cell than a hospital room._

_ _

_"You're not in the hospital," Angel informs me. "You're at home."_

_ _

_"No," I shake my head desperately. "I don't live here. I don't!"_

_ _

_Angel starts to walk away and I frantically call after him. "Don't go, Angel. Please, don't leave me here alone."_

_ _

_He turns back around and comes to sit by the side of the bed. Gently he strokes my forehead, pressing a soft kiss to my damp brow. "I wasn't going anywhere," he reassures me. "You know I'd never leave you, right?"_

_ _

_I nod, calming down somewhat. "Of course not. I love you."_

_ _

_He smiles softly. "I love you too." He lowers his lips to mine, leaning in for a long kiss. Closing my eyes, I kiss him back, savouring the feeling of his fingers first threading through my hair, then wandering lower. Over my shoulders, across my breasts, swirling patterns on my belly…_

_ _

_Suddenly, my whole body is consumed with pain emanating from my abdomen. I scream into Angel's mouth, my body tensing rigidly. Angel pulls away from me as I arch backwards on the bed, my every nerve ending seeming to throb in agony. I force my eyes open, looking up into his face, imploring him to help me somehow. _

_ _

_He just smirks. "Serves you right," he says cruelly. "You were never good enough."_

_ _

_His words cut deeper than even the searing pain in my stomach and this time my screams aren't muffled by a lover's kiss but tear loudly through the still air of the room. A nurse and a doctor appear by my side, materialising out of nowhere. _

_ _

_"It looks serious, Doctor." The nurse says, reaching over to check my pulse._

_ _

_"She's going to need emergency surgery," he replies, shrugging his shoulders into a blood stained lab coat. "Scalpel please."_

_ _

_The nurse hands him a giant silver blade, which he lowers down towards my body, hovering it just above my chest._

_ _

_"What are you doing?" I gasp out. "It's my stomach that's hurting!"_

_ _

_The doctor shakes his head. "No, I think you'll find it's your heart that's the problem." He slashes the knife downwards, opening a gaping wound along my sternum. With a sickening crack, he pulls my ribs apart and reaches inside and pulls out my heart. _

_ _

_The doctor turns around to Angel and carefully passes him the still beating heart. "I think this belongs to you, sir." My eyes widen as Angel cradles it close to him. Then he clenches his fist, blood dripping out from between the fingers. _

_ _

_I pass out. _

~~~

__

__When I wake up it is to a dull ache suffusing my whole being and a head that feels like it's been stuffed with cotton wool. An IV steadily drips blood into my left arm, the deep crimson running down thin tubes like somebody has ripped the very veins out of my limbs and hung them up in the air for everybody to see. My eyes wonder across the room, squinting in the bright light, until they rest upon Riley's face. He is smiling broadly and suddenly a wave of nausea hits me. This isn't right, is it? This isn't where I'm supposed to be.

Riley squeezes my hand tightly, his large fingers curled around mine, and calls the nurse over. "She's waking up!"

Immediately, I close my eyes again, wishing I had stayed asleep. Anything to not be here. 

"Mrs Finn," the nurse calls cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"

For a minute I am confused, then I realise she's talking to me. I'm Mrs Finn, wife of Riley Finn, mother of…oh my God, the baby! What happened to the baby?

"What happened?" I ask, having to make incredible effort to form the words. "Baby…"

"It's all right," the nurse replies. "The caesarean went fine. You're now the mother of a perfectly healthy baby son. He was nine pounds six ounces too – a big boy, like his daddy."

The idea makes me feel even sicker. Exactly like his daddy, Riley's sandy hair, his small town mentality, his dopey grin. I see it all transposed on to the creature that came out of my womb and it just feels totally _wrong_ somehow, like my own child is a stranger to me. But then I guess he is because I've never even met him yet. For some reason I find this thought hysterically funny and start to laugh, only it comes out more of a choking sound and the nurse's eyes widen in concern.

"Mrs Finn? Are you okay?"

I breathe deeply, quieting myself, blinking back the tears forming in my eyes. "I'm fine. I just need a little more rest that's all."

The nurse takes the hint and gently shepherds Riley out of the room, suggesting that he visit the neonatal unit now. He deposits one last wet kiss on my forehead, before leaving me alone. I don't sleep, however, I just turn my face to the wall and close my eyes, wishing for my life to have turned out differently.

~~~

Later on that day, they bring the baby to see me. I hold it in my arms like I would a doll – except I never played with dolls much when I was younger, I was more interested in toy soldiers or cars that lit up and made noises. I remember that when all the other girls played house, I used to put a sheet over my shoulders and pretend to be a superhero. I would always zoom in, Buffy to the rescue, stomping over make believe tea parties and demolishing Barbie and Ken's Malibu beach retreat. Those things didn't interest me, I lived in a world of action and high excitement. 

My teachers used to call me disruptive, they recommended I see a child psychiatrist, take drugs to combat my hyperactivity, but Mom dismissed all this. She insisted I was just different, a special child. You know sort of preparation for the 'one girl in all the world' gig. Now I wish that I had been more like the others, then maybe I would be able to fit into this new life a little better, rather than constantly craving my old one.

I'm a mother. This little creature in my arms belongs to me. I say the words to myself, but I don't believe them. _I'm somebody's mother._ No, it isn't true, it can't be. They made a mistake at the crèche – this isn't my son. He doesn't look like me, or feel a part of me. He may as well be just a doll of rubber and fabric, because that's what he is in my eyes. He's not a little person to love, but a thing sent to make my life Hell. 

It shouldn't be like this, should it? Aren't I supposed to feel that overwhelming rush of mother love? Where's that bond with the baby I've read about in all the maternity books? What happened to the protective instinct I'm supposed to feel, or the gooey softness that should come inside when he gazes up at me with wide, unfocused eyes? 

"Have you decided on a name yet?" The midwife asks cheerfully.

I just look up at her blankly – it wasn't something I'd ever considered. Choosing a name makes it real, I guess. It means I can no longer deny the fact that this baby exists and is half my responsibility. I turn to Riley. "You choose – I'm all out of ideas at the moment."

Riley leans over the baby, tickling its tummy and causing it to kick its legs and gurgle. "How about Caleb?" He suggests. "Caleb Johnston Finn – after my mother's maiden name. Do you like that, Caleb?" He speaks in a singsong voice to his son. "Do you like it?"

"That's sounds fine," I say distractedly. "We'll use that."

"Would you like to try and breastfeed him now, Mrs Finn?" The midwife enquires now that the naming issue has been sorted out. "We usually find the earlier you start, the easier it is to get into a routine."

My eyes widen in horrified shock. _Breastfeed? Nobody told me I was going to have to do that._ The idea repulses me. To have that _thing_ clamped on to my nipple, sucking at me with red, hungry jaws. I can't face it, I just can't.

"I-I don't think I want to do that," I stutter, starting to feel sick.

"Of course you do, Buffy," Riley interrupts smoothly. "A mother's milk is the best thing a baby could possibly have. You want to give our little boy a head start in life, don't you?"

"We fully recommend breast feeding here at the hospital," the midwife backs up Riley's insistence. "A mother's milk contains all the vitamins and minerals the little guy here could ever need and you can pass on your immunity to certain diseases on to him as well."

I stare at them both, suddenly trapped in a nightmare situation. I don't want to do this. I really don't and yet neither of them seem to understand. It feels like the walls are closing in on me. They can't make me do this, can they? I'm still my own person. I'm still Buffy – they can't make me to anything!

"Come on," Riley reaches a hand out to me. "Just give it a try – for me."

I slap his arm away, twisting to virtually scream at him. "No! Leave me alone. I can't do it. I can't do it!"

At my outburst the baby in my arms begins to cry. Long, thin wails echo through my mind, bouncing off the walls of my skull, only increasing my feelings of panic. My heart is racing and I feel my muscles tense in readiness for a fight. "Stop him crying," I demand crazily, the frightened look in my eyes reminiscent of a wounded animal. "Make it shut up!"

The midwife hurriedly takes the baby out of my arms, rocking him soothingly until his cries cease. Riley glances over at me worriedly. "Buffy?" 

"It's okay, Mr Finn," the midwife tries to reassure him. "She's just a bit tired – still not recovered fully from the surgery. Your wife just needs a little more rest that's all."

He looks unconvinced, but gets up to leave, anyway. He leans over to give me a kiss on the cheek, but I shrink away, forcing him to remove his lips. Pulling away, with a slightly hurt expression on his face he exits the room. The midwife hesitates a little, a suspicious look in her eye. She knows, I realise. She knows that something's not right inside me. 

And yet I don't seem to even care. 

~~~

A few days later they discharge me from hospital. Riley stays at home with me at first, patiently showing me how to hold and change and bottle-feed the baby. I go through the motions, blankly, automatically doing as he says, my mind always elsewhere – anywhere but here. My life is like a dream, or perhaps a nightmare – it all passes in an unrealistic haze I can't wait to wake up from. Then Riley goes back to work and I do wake up. But not to anything better.

It's all horribly real, me here alone with only the baby for company. It demands my attention almost 24 hours a day. Feed me. Change me. Bathe me. It cries and it screams almost constantly, so much that I took it to see the town doctor. I thought that there must be something wrong, the baby was so fractious all the time. But during our trip out he was fine. He lay calmly and patiently while the doctor and nurses examined him, all the while giving me strange glances as if they were wondering why I brought him in at all. Finally the doctor asked me if I were feeling okay and I just stormed out. 

Nobody gets it. Nobody understands how difficult this is.

The baby cried all the way home. It bawled until its eyes were red and throat sore and wouldn't be comforted by anything I did. The only thing that finally quieted him was Riley's return. Whereupon I just ran upstairs and collapsed on the bed, staring up at the ceiling until the tears blurring my vision faded away. 

Today is another day like all the rest. The baby cries and wails and screams, its protests getting louder and louder whenever I go near it. I try making a bottle, changing its diaper, rocking it in my arms, but nothing seems to make any difference. It gets more upset and I get more desperate. I wish he were never born. I wish I'd listened to Willow and had that abortion. I wish I'd never married Riley and moved to the middle of fucking nowhere in the first place.

"Shut up!" I yell at the baby. "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"

The howling gets louder and I pace despairingly back and forth. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to cope? This child is making my existence Hell. It would be so much easier if he weren't here, if he were dead and gone and the house was peaceful again. 

The thoughts shock me, but I can't stop them coming. It would be so easy, so very easy just to make things better right now. I could take a cushion off the sofa and hold it over his mouth and nose. Two minutes later and it would all be over, I could have my life back again. 

But they check for that, don't they? People would know if I suffocated him and I'd just go from one prison to another. _Something else. I need something else._ My eyes scan the room, settling on the sideboard where our household's sole bottle of liquor is kept. Neither of us being heavy drinkers, the vodka is purely for medicinal reasons – used for cuts, scrapes and days when I need a little extra just to get me through – and there is almost two thirds of it left.

Enough of that in his milk and he'll just go to sleep, right? He'll just fade away and it won't be cruel at all. With shaking hands, I make up some baby formula then reach into the cupboard for the vodka. Just half the bottle – that's all I'll need. Just half of it and all my problems will go away forever. I unscrew the top and the heady scent of alcohol wafts into my nostrils. The baby is still crying. I can do this – everything's going to be fine from now on. 

"Don't worry, Caleb," I whisper. "Everything's going to be okay. Mommy's going to make it better."

_Mommy_. My mommy with the soft skin and the arms that held me when I was upset. The one who used to be the centre of my universe, who made all my problems go away, who kissed my cuts and bruises healed. I'm supposed to be that person for this little boy. I'm supposed to love him and cherish him and protect him. God, what kind of mother am I?

I crush the glass bottle between my hands with Slayer strength, the broken shards cutting deep into my palms and drawing red rivers of blood. The alcohol found its way into the gashes making them sting sharply, but I like the pain. I _deserve_ the pain. Falling to my knees I begin to weep, staring fixedly to the red streams running unchecked down my arms and dripping off my elbows, my cries blending in with those of my child.

~~~

Riley found me when he came home from work. He kept asking over and over what had happened but all I could answer was that I was sorry. I only wanted to make him stop crying. I'm sorry…

The doctors stitched up my hands and made me stay overnight in hospital. I heard them whispering amongst themselves. _Have you seen the crazy lady who tried to kill her baby? $2.50 entrance fee to see the freak. _

A social worker came to see me. "Are you okay, Buffy?" She asked.

"I didn't hurt him," I replied. "I never touched him. I _never _touched him."

She spoke nonsense in a voice that was meant to be soothing then she talked to Riley and the doctors straight over my head. _I'm not stupid,_ I wanted to say. _I can still understand what you're saying. I know what post-natal depression means. _

They gave me some pills, said they would make me feel better. The counsellor told me I shouldn't worry. Thoughts of harming myself or my child are perfectly normal in the case of depressed mothers. But I'm not to be left alone with Caleb. I can't look after my own child unsupervised. They gave me some pills, told me they'd make me feel better. I said, what if I don't want to feel better? What can you give me for that?

Riley's mom volunteered to look after Caleb while I'm feeling 'unwell', but the idea only horrified me even more. _I don't want her near me. I don't want her anywhere near my child! _

People were beginning to talk she told me in a visit to the hospital. Town gossip was all about my apparent insanity. "It's just laziness, if you ask me," Mrs Finn complained. "Whoever heard of a woman not being able to look after her own baby? Young folks today can't cope with anything. They have a weak mind and an idle temperament and doctors call it an illness. Would you even believe it."

I said absolutely nothing in reply, just turned my face away and studied the peeling paint on the walls of the local hospital. When Riley came into the room, his face drawn and worried, I looked up at him with desperate, pleading eyes. 

"I want to go home."

"That's fine, Buffy," he replied. "I spoke to the doctors and they said you can leave. I've arranged for Mom to stay at the house with you during the day."

"No," I shook my head. "I want to go _home_ – back to Sunnydale."

So, we went.

~~~

Mom looks surprised to see us, but not too shocked, like perhaps she always knew this turn of events was inevitable. We give her some flimsy excuse about wanting Caleb to meet his grandmother, which she sees straight through, but plays along with for everybody's sake. I don't know how long exactly we're going to be here, but if it were up to me I'd never go back. 

On our first night Mom is busy cooing over the baby with Riley standing by – the proud, overprotective father – so I slip upstairs to my old room, feeling surplus to requirements. I gaze around my old room and all its reminders of another life, another person. Dust has gathered over all my old things already and I think it terribly sad how the girl who owned this room died. 

Suddenly restless, I decide to climb out through the window, sliding over the roof tiles like it was only yesterday I did this, not over 12 months ago. Silently, I drop to the ground, my heart pumping and adrenaline flowing through my veins. For the first time in a long time, I feel the black cloud that hangs over my head shift a little. I escaped! I'm free!

Snapping off a tree branch in order to fashion a makeshift stake, I head towards the cemetery. Out on the hunt where I was born to be. The night air is sweet and fresh and I realise with a pang how much I have missed it and how much I will miss it again when I must go back to Iowa. 

A vampire attacks from behind and I lash out at him with flying fists and feet. My actions are uncoordinated and stiff from lack of practice, and the fight lasts longer than usual because of it. Eventually, I tackle the creature to the ground. Straddling him and plunging down with my stake, watching fascinated, as he explodes into dust. 

That's what I do. I kill things. That's what I've always done. I killed my first lover, didn't I? I plunged a sword through his belly without even thinking twice, so was it that inconceivable I'd think about murdering my own son. It wasn't the illness, the depression, it was me. I met the first Slayer – she was a killer without conscience. Is that what I am, what I've become? 

The exhilaration of the fight suddenly gone, my heart seems to sink right down to my feet and I begin to feel sick. Aimlessly now, I wonder through the tombstones, mentally cataloguing the locations of my former battles. Over there I sliced the head off a scaly green demon, then I went dancing at the Bronze and never thought of the creature again. Maybe it wasn't pregnancy or marriage that sealed my fate. Maybe it was becoming the Slayer in the first place. It gradually drained me of who I was and left only a shell of Buffy, a shell that can't even remember how to love somebody. 

A noise from behind me alerts me to the presence of another vampire. This time I don't fight back. I just want everything to be over – I can't cope with the ruins of what used to be my life anymore. So, I let him grab roughly hold of my shoulders and push me up against the wall of a nearby crypt. His fangs hover over my neck then sink in deeply, the pain nothing at all really. Only a pinprick. Not a bad way to go. It reminds me of Angel and when he bit me, his large body covering mine, his arms holding me tightly as he took my essence into himself. I wish I'd died then in his embrace, saving the life of the person I loved. 

I close my eyes and lean back against the cold stone surface, beginning to feel more and more light-headed as the blood gushes out of my system into the mouth of this vampire. Not long now. Only a couple more minutes and I'll be gone. I'll have peace finally.

The pressure on my neck is suddenly gone, the vampire's fangs removed. My eyes shoot open, just in time to see my attacker turn to dust. As his remains clear from the air I catch a glimpse of the person who rescued me, who saved my life when I hadn't wanted them to.

"Angel."

To be continued… 


	3. Chapter Three

I stumble, groggy from the loss of blood and fall into Angel's arms. He lowers me gently down, so we are sitting on the ground together, my limbs in a tangled mess in his lap. 

"Buffy, what…?" He is unable to finish the question, his confusion evident. His arms are around my waist, holding me steady and I think I should be moving away, but somehow I can't bring myself to. It has been so long since I was this close to him that his touch makes my heart skip a beat and his hands burn my skin even through my thick sweater. 

"What are you doing here?" I ask in a small voice. 

"I live back here now," Angel replies distractedly. "Giles asked if I could look after the Hellmouth when you…left."

"I-I didn't know," stare up at him in disbelief. "I thought Giles was going back to England."

"We managed to persuade him to stay. Buffy," he changes tack again. "Why didn't you fight off that vampire?"

I shrug, tears beginning to form in the back of my eyes. "I don't know."

"But he could have killed you," Angel tightens his grip on me and I think I catch an edge of fear in his voice, though I can't be sure. 

"I-I," I try to answer but Angel is looking at me with those eyes. The ones that seem to see straight into my heart, past all the bullshit and the barriers I set up to protect myself, past the blankness that confuses Riley or the false smile that reassures my friends. He is looking and seeing me – Buffy – the girl I thought had died already. I pull away from him. "I have to get back."

"Buffy, wait," he scrambles to his feet after me. "What's going on with you?"

"What's going on with me?" I repeat his question incredulously. "As if you even care."

"Hey, that's not fair you're the one who – " he breaks off abruptly.

"It's okay, you can say it," I yell at him, suddenly enjoying the anger that flows through me. It's so much better than just the empty despair. "I'm the one who got married, who fucked somebody else and had his baby. I'm the one living in Hell here!"

"Buffy…" he flinches in response to my strong words and all the fight evaporates from me as quickly as it came.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. "I have to go now. I have to go – they'll be missing me."

He catches hold of my arm, not letting me leave. "Are things really that bad?"

I stand trapped in his gaze like a rabbit trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car. A lie forms on my lips, but I choke on the words before I can say them. Angel won't believe me, anyway, he'll just press harder and harder until the truth comes spilling out in all its horrific glory. "I wanted to die just now," I whisper so softly that I'm not even sure of he's heard until his fingers dig painfully into my arm, an involuntary tightening of his already vice-like grasp of my wrist. "I wanted it all to be over."

"All what to be over?"

I shake my head. "The loneliness, the helplessness, the reality of all your hopes and dreams being ripped away from you." Tears stream down my cheeks and he pulls me close to his chest, wrapping me in his strong embrace.

"Shush, Buffy," he soothes me. "You're all right. Everything's going to be okay…"

"How? How is everything going to be okay?" I ask, my voice muffled by his silk shirt. Riley always wears cotton shirts – they're rough and stiff with starch and they scratch my skin. Not like the materials Angel wears. Cool, smooth leather like a second layer of skin and soft silks and velvets that slide over his flawless, muscular flesh. And they always smell like him – not like acrid bleach or sickly sweet fabric conditioner, but spicy, musky scents that soak luxuriously into my senses. 

"We'll work something out," Angel reassures me. "I'm here."

"Are you?" I lift my head from his chest to look up with uncertain eyes. "Are you really here, and this isn't just some cruel joke, because I don't know what to believe anymore."

He emits a small, pained groan, like my words have physically hurt him. "What happened to you, Buffy? What destroyed so much of you in such a short time?"

"Love," I reply with a short hysterical laugh. "My heart did this to me."

~~~

I sit cross-legged on the hearthrug in front of the mansion's blazing fire, my bloodstained sweater replaced with on of those shirts of Angel's that I treasure so much. I used to love to wear his clothes – it made me feel so close to him, like I was carrying around a little piece of him wherever I went, like he belonged to me. Now I feel safe and cared for as he gently cleans the wound on my neck, taping a clean, white bandage over it. 

"Will it scar?" I ask, mainly to break the heavy silence that hangs between us.

Angel shakes his head. "No, it shouldn't do."

"Yours did," I remind him, a little more harshly than I intended.

"All done," he inspects his medical efforts, deliberately ignoring my comment. Yet another issue in the long Buffy and Angel history that we can't talk about. Chalk it up on the list along with me on the end of the heavy steel sword that sent him to Hell and the night of my seventeenth birthday. It kills me not to be able to mention these things. Not to admit how I cried every night for months and months, when I thought he was dead and my soul was being torn apart with guilt and grief. I want to be able to speak about the night of my birthday too – our one and only together – about how much I needed him inside me then and how afterwards I ached for him, longed to feel his touch and his kisses once more. 

"So, where do you want to start?" He interrupts my thoughts, just as they strayed further into forbidden territory, into memories of cool hands and soft lips, of hard angles and smooth, pale skin.

"Start?"

"With what happened to you."

"Oh," I nod vaguely. "How about at the beginning?"

"Beginnings are good," he reaches out to brush my arm gently with his fingertips, the brief contact sending an electric current straight through my body. 

I gaze over into the flames, watching them flicker and dance, the golden glow they cast still not enough to warm the coldness inside of me. My mouth twists into an ironic smile. "I met this guy and I fell in love with him and I haven't been able to stop since."

Angel looks a little puzzled. "I take it you're not talking about Riley here."

I laugh in response – it was either that or burst into tears. "No, not Riley."

Angel nods curtly and looks away from me, his turn to study the fire. "Don't you want to know who I mean?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wary, his shoulders hunched. "None of my business."

"You," I tell him in a voice no stronger than a whisper, touching his knee lightly with my hand. "It's always been you."

"Buffy," he replies with a strangled moan, shuffling back away from me.

"Don't worry," I say caustically. "I'm not going to jump you. You wanted to know what was wrong and I'm telling you. I'm sick of pretending – pretending to love Riley, to care about his child, to live a life I never wanted in the first place. I'm tired of feeling so goddamn lonely all the time."

"You're not alone," Angel interjects. 

I glance over at him with an ironic smile, twisting the hem of his shirt between my fingers as I do so. "Yes I am. I'm alone because there's nobody who truly knows me, nobody who can see inside me head and understand what I'm thinking and how I'm feeling. People say they care about me, but they don't. They only care about the happy Buffy, the one that used to slay vampires and make the world a safer place, or that took them dancing at the Bronze, or that pretended she was pleased to be marrying a man she never loved and to be having his child. If they really knew the person I am then they wouldn't want anything to do with me."

"You don't know that."

"Oh, believe me – I do."

He stands up, holding his hand out to me. I take it and he walks me over to the sofa. We sit down together his hand holding mine for a few beats longer than necessary. "Try me," he offers. "Tell me what's really going on with you. After all, I'm not exactly in a position to judge am I?"

I hesitate slightly, in a way Angel is right, if there's anybody who could make sense of the confused mess inside my head it's him. But, I don't want to let him see my darker side, I want to stay perfect in his eyes, with all the purity and innocence I had when I met him. I suppose I'm afraid that he'll stop loving me, that he'll realise I'm not worthy of him.

"Come on," he prompts, taking hold of my hand once more. "There's nothing you could possibly say that would make me think any less of you."

I swallow deeply, the need to unburden my soul outweighing anything else. "I wanted to kill him," I blurt out. "I couldn't stand it any longer – I wanted to kill my own baby, make him stop crying, just have everything go back to the way it was…" I start to weep, tearing my hand away from Angel's in order to cover my face.

He pulls me gently into his arms and I fight him a little at first, trying desperately to pull away. I don't deserve to be comforted for this, I deserve to rot in Hell for eternity. I wish he'd let that vampire drain me this evening, I wish I was a corpse in a graveyard right now, with nothing left except bones and dead flesh. With all the pain and emptiness gone. 

"I'm just like Faith," I choke out. "I'm a murderer. I'm evil."

He grabs my flailing arms and holds me still, forcing me to look at him. "Listen to me, Buffy," he orders. "You're not any of those things – and neither was Faith. You're just a girl. A girl who's hurting. Who needs help."

"You don't understand," I shake my head vehemently. "You don't know what it's like – "

"What it's like to want to kill," Angel interrupts. "To feel the itch underneath your skin and know that you have the power to take somebody's life away in an instant. To feel the adrenaline rush that comes with that power. To have seen so much death that it ceases to shock, that it just becomes a part of who you are. To know that it's only the most tenuous concept of right and wrong that stops you lashing out at all." He takes a deep breath in. "Oh, no, I know nothing about that."

"It's different."

"How is it different?" He asks in a softer voice. 

"It's not _you_ that feels this way – it's the demon inside you."

Angel smiles slightly. "And it's the essence of the Slayer inside you. How long has it been since the last time you went out slaying?"

I scrunch my face up in thought. "Before tonight? Eight, maybe nine months."

"Maybe you should take it up again," he suggests. "When Slayers first came about they weren't supposed to be normal girls with normal lives. The Kill was their life and they were given the strength and power to make that possible. You can't ignore your birthright, Buffy. Faith tried and it drove her to the point of psychosis – she didn't recognise who she was anymore. I don't want to see the same thing happen to you."

His words strike a chord within me. I am beginning to lose sight of exactly who I am. I'm lost in a swirl of confusion over what I'm supposed to be doing and what my responsibilities are. Am I a mother or a Slayer? A wife or a lover? And in this medley of different roles, where's Buffy gone?

"Angel?" I ask in a small voice. "Do you think I'll ever get better?"

He emits a deep chuckle, and I can feel the sound rumbling low in his chest where I lean my face against it. "Of course you will, just give it a little time, okay? And remember, I'm here for you if you need me."

_I do_, I think as I snuggle deeper into his reassuring embrace. _I definitely do need you – so much._

~~~

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Giles looks disapprovingly at me over the top of his glasses. 

"Yes," I sigh exasperatedly, repeating my argument for about the tenth time in as many minutes. "I really think it'll help for me to start slaying again. And Angel will be there to look out for me, so you don't have to worry about that."

"What does Riley think about it?"

"He's fine," I answer evasively. In fact Riley wasn't fine at all, he was horrified by the idea. I think he wants me to be the typical little wife, staying home and caring for the kids, not going out killing demons every night. But I told him this is who I am and he has to accept it and in the end he did, if not a little grudgingly. "I haven't mentioned Angel to him, though," I tell Giles. "To say they don't really get along with one another would be about the understatement of the decade, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention anything on that score."

"Really, Buffy," Giles exhibits his trademark displeased frown. "I don't feel comfortable keeping secrets like this."

"Oh, like you didn't feel comfortable keeping the secret that Angel moved back to Sunnydale in the first place?" I ask sarcastically, causing Giles to blush.

"Yes, well, I thought it best not to, uh, raise the subject. Perhaps in hindsight I was wrong."

"And you're wrong again here," I insist. "I want to slay again and you can't stop me." I soften my words with a small smile. "I would like it if you'd go back to helping me, though. Research has never really been my area of expertise."

Giles still appears unconvinced. "Are you absolutely positive you're ready for this, because Riley told me – "

"Riley's been talking to you? Behind my back?" I interrupt incredulously.

"He was worried about you. He told me what the doctors said – about you being depressed."

My expression clouds over momentarily. "I'm fine."

"People who are fine don't slash their hands open on liquor bottles."

"Well, you'd know, wouldn't you!" I shoot back at him angrily, making an oblique reference to the bottle of bourbon I noticed him hide quickly away after I arrived. "I was upset," I continue in a steely voice. "It was an accident – everything's okay now."

"Have you been taking the medicine the doctor gave to you?" 

I think of the vial filled with all those tiny, tiny pills, little packages of chemicals meant to cure all ills in the world, meant to wipe away my feelings and replace them with simulated well being. I remember tipping them out into my hand and staring at them for hours, as if I could look at them for long enough and they'd tell me all their secrets, how exactly they're meant to change the nightmare that is my life. Then I tipped them all back in the bottle and shoved them, untouched, into the deepest recesses of my purse. "Yes," I lie. "I've been taking my meds – and they seem to be helping."

Giles nods. "Good. I'm glad." He rubs the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "I'm still not entirely convinced but if you want to slay again, then nothing I say or do is going to change your mind. Please don't go out alone though – at least not until you're back to full strength."

I smile gratefully at him. "I won't, I promise."

~~~

Getting away from Riley that evening is difficult. He wants to come with me – ostensibly to protect me, until I point out that my distraction at his presence will probably only put me in more, rather than less, danger. I lie straight to his face; telling him that Giles is coming with me and that he's given full support to the scheme. And my deceit doesn't even cause me to feel a single twinge of guilt. 

I meet up with Angel in the cemetery. A whole hundred yards away I see his figure silhouetted against the moon, his body as sturdy and tall as always, his long black coat flapping in the slight breeze, his pale skin glinting silver under the light from the stars. And the memories come flooding back, of so many other nights spent like this, of the adrenaline of the fight and the feel of his lips pressed hard upon mine, of the soft rain of vampire dust on my skin and the tingling in my loins for him. My mouth curves up in a smile and I feel alive once more.

"Hey there you," I greet him with the first signs of cheerfulness I have shown in a long time. It feels good to be out of the house, to be doing something just for _me _– for Buffy – not for Riley or the baby or Mom or anyone else. I feel liberated, away from the claustrophobia of being a wife and a mother, free to roam in the cool night air.

"Hey," Angel returns. "You ready."

"As I'll ever be."

The first vampire we encounter, Angel leaves to me, hovering close by in case I find myself in any trouble. I don't. My technique is rusty and probably not at all graceful to look at, but through brute force and sheer determination alone, I dispatch the thing in a matter of seconds.

"Feel better now?" Angel cocks an eyebrow at me.

"Much, thanks," I grin back, and it's true. Out here I can forget whatever else is going on in my life and concentrate solely on the fight, the kill, the lingering feel of Angel at the edge of my senses. It's a catharsis of all my bottled up emotions and better than any therapy a doctor could have dreamed up for me.

Two more vampires come, three, four, a couple of demons, and Angel and I beat them all. My movements become smoother, more instinctive and synchronised with Angel's. This is good, I think as I pound a vampire in the stomach. This is what I was missing before; the exhilaration, the exertion, the chance to let go of all my inhibitions and just be myself. Just be Buffy. Just be the Slayer. Just be.

The vampire catches me by surprise with a sudden counterattack, knocking me to the ground. I spin quickly away, grabbing hold of his ankles and dragging him down with me. I roll on top of him, shoving a stake easily through his heart. The actions are totally automatic and without thought, and I am almost surprised when the vamp explodes into dust in my face.

Angel reaches down a hand to help me up. "Are you all right?" He asks anxiously.

I nod, still slightly dazed and struggling to regain my breath. Tilting my head upwards to offer Angel further reassurances it suddenly hits me how close we are standing to one another and how our hands are still joined. I fall head over heels into his concerned gaze, my heart beginning to race for a reason totally separate to my recent fighting.

Angel appears stunned into silence too, an unnecessary breath catching in his throat. I let my thumb idly start to rub his wrist, feeling for the nonexistent pulse point there. He responds by tightening his grip on my fingers. "I missed you," I whisper softly. 

My eyes flutter shut for a moment and the next thing I know we are kissing, my tongue exploring his mouth, his lips cool against mine, my body pressed up alongside his, his arms wrapped around my waist. After what seems like both an eternity and an instant, we pull apart, both shaking perceptibly.

"We shouldn't have done that," Angel shakes his head, but makes no move to extradite himself from my embrace. 

"I know," I reply, resting my cheek upon his chest as I do so. "I know."

~~~

We stay a week longer in Sunnydale, every night of which I spend on patrol with Angel. It is like being sixteen again. We slay the vampires then lie for hours afterwards on the damp ground between the graves, gazing up at the stars, holding each other, exchanging sweet kisses that neither of us can find the strength to resist. I find myself thinking about the future – something I haven't done since that summer before college, since he left me. At some point I decided the future was too difficult to face and would only focus on the next day, the next hour, the next five minutes. Now, though, I start to make plans again, have dreams and fantasies.

These are all pretty Angel-related at first. At Mom's house with Riley and the baby, I occupy my thoughts with visions of that night's patrol. I picture the sky, huge and empty above Angel and me, making all the heartache and constraint between us suddenly seem utterly insignificant. I imagine the feel of his hand in mine, his cool touch and soft lips. And when Riley comments how much happier I suddenly seem, I only smile a secret smile and let him kiss me lightly on the cheek before heading out to meet my lover.

_My lover._ I mean, Angel's still cursed, so we can't do anything that would officially make him my lover, but in my heart the title is his and always has been. We don't need to have sex to know that we love each other or to feel the fiery passion for one another that burns just under our flesh. Riley and I have had plenty of sex, enough to make my stomach churn with guilt whenever I think of it in relation to Angel even though it's actually Riley who I married, Riley who I vowed fidelity and loyalty to, not Angel. And the sex was good, as far as my limited experience goes, anyway. It wasn't earth shattering, not like my first time when everything was new and terrifying and deliciously forbidden, and I cried in his arms afterwards because I was so happy, because I'd seen into his soul and found only love for me there… But with Riley I discovered that physical part of myself that enjoyed the act no matter who it was with – my inner slut, I guess. The one that got me into this mess in the first place. 

No matter how many times I shared Riley's bed, however, or how often he made me come, we never had that spark. We never felt electricity arc between us like I do every time I simply brush Angel's hand. We never had that deep emotional connection that lets us see each other's hearts like I can do when I gaze into Angel's eyes. That's what makes somebody your lover, the little things: the way he knows instinctively when you need to be held and when he should back away, the way you can both close your eyes and your lips will still find one another's, the way your legs turn to jelly when he traces feather-light fingers down your spine. For now I dream about sex with Angel, but when I wake up I can cope pretty well without actually having it.

Angel holds me in his arms in his – _our ­_– bed at the mansion. And it doesn't bother me at all that these moments are all we have. These moments are so precious, so much more than I had ever hoped or expected for that I cannot begrudge a single one of them. Just a small slice of Angel is enough, just knowing that he loves me and wants me as much as I love and want him, is better than any sex could ever be. 

"You go back to Iowa tomorrow," Angel says flatly. 

"I don't want to think about that," I offer the same blanket denial I have been giving him all week. I don't want to think about Riley and Caleb and the house with the white-picket fence and the half-repainted shutters. 

"Well, you're going to have to," he insists. 

"You're worried about us." I state.

"Is there even an us?"

I twist my head and plant a light kiss to the side of his jaw. "What do you think?"

"I think you're married to somebody else…"

I pull away from him, my eyes flashing with abrupt anger. "Yes, and I'm the Slayer and you're a vampire and you're still cursed. I've heard all the arguments, Angel. And you know what? I still don't care. Maybe it's stupid and misguided and all going to end in tears but…I love you," my voice softens. "I can't remember how it feels to not love you. And I can't live without you anymore."

He says nothing for a long time, quietly holding my hand in his, and a deep feeling of dread starts to build in the pit of my belly. God, he's going to break-up with me again. Please no, I only just got him back, I can't lose him again so soon. It nearly destroyed me before – I won't make it through this time. 

"You have a son," he finally replies. "He and Riley need you."

I shake my head, offering a small smile. "Uh-uh, I actually think they'll be better off without me."

"A child should be with his mother," Angel is adamant. "Families should stay together."

I try to make a joke, even though my stomach is flip-flopping back and forth with fear. "I'd forgotten exactly how old fashioned you are."

"You can't just leave them," Angel answers seriously.

"And I can't just leave you either," I lean over and kiss him softly on the lips. "These few days with you, I've felt better than I have in months."

"But it's only been a week, who knows what'll happen in the future…"

I shake my head. "Let's face that as it comes. I don't want to make big plans for the rest of my life, Angel. I just want moments like these when we're holding each other and nothing else matters. That's all I've ever wanted."

I kiss him again and this time he kisses me back, twisting his hand in my hair and taking my lower lip into his mouth. My heart soars, safe in the knowledge that he is mine, and this time he's not going to fight it. 

"So, what happens tomorrow then?" He asks when we pull apart.

"I guess, I go back to Iowa with Riley and I think of you every day," I stroke the side of his face gently, keeping my eyes fixed on his. "And I miss you so much that it makes me ache inside. Then we call and write, until we can see each other again."

"And when will that be?"

"As soon as you come up to Iowa to visit."

~~~

Leaving the mansion that night was difficult, every time I would turn to go Angel would catch my lips in a finally goodbye kiss and half an hour would fly by without us even noticing where it went. Eventually, I made my way back to Mom's around daybreak and crawled into bed next to Riley's sleeping form, pretending the following morning I had returned much earlier. 

The lies come so naturally to me now, I suppose I should be a little worried. I always used to be a terrible liar. I would stutter and giggle and turn an attractive shade of puce, and nobody who knew me was ever the slightest bit fooled. But with Riley the lies trip easily off my tongue without a moment's thought. _Yes, honey, I've been taking the medication. Spike came on patrol with me last night – we had a little trouble with a gang of vamps, that's why I was late. Of course, I'm happy to be heading back home. I love you…_

Little tiny seeds of doubt creep into my mind every so often. I feel guilty, like what I'm doing is wrong, even though I know exactly how right it actually is. I need Angel – that's the bottom line here. He makes me feel whole, complete. He's the only person in my entire world who has the capacity to take away my loneliness and breathe new life into my dead heart. Sparing all the romantic notions and metaphors, the basic truth is that I love him. I always have loved him and just being with him is enough to counterbalance all the rest of the crappy stuff I have to face. 

So, I can't give that up. I tried it and it slowly began to destroy me inside. But I'm not the same naïve sixteen year old I was when I first fell in love either. I know nothing has changed between Angel and me, nothing but our resolve to stay apart. And now I have other responsibilities too. I can't abandon my child and my husband. I owe Riley much more than that; after all, he's always been good to me. He married me without question when I became pregnant. He always loved me and respected me and never let me down. I suppose in return for all this I owe him my fidelity too, but some parts of me just aren't left to give. Riley gets my body and my child, my friendship and my appearance as his wife. Angel gets my heart and soul and as many breathless kisses and whispered I love yous as we can steal. Maybe it's not the fairest of deals, but it's the only one I can offer right now. 

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter Four

For some reason life in Iowa starts to get a little easier. Maybe it's because now when I lie awake at night, it's not with silent tears streaming down my face, but with memories of moonlit nights and cool lips dancing in my head. Maybe it's because I get up each morning tingling with excitement, eager to send Riley off to work so I can sit patiently by the phone, waiting for it to ring and to hear Angel's deep voice on the other end.

He always calls now, every day when he wakes up. The first time he did it he said it was because he was dreaming of me and had to hear my voice to make sure any of our week together actually happened. I told him it did and we talked for over an hour. Then when we ran out of things to say we listened to the silence on the other end of the line, just the sound of each other's breathing exchange enough.

My improved mood seems to have rubbed off on the atmosphere around me too. Suddenly, the heat seems less stifling, the air less dusty. Caleb becomes more like a little person each day and less like a burden. The thing that used to only cry and scream and wail, now is beginning to develop a personality of his own. He no longer protests whenever I go near him to hold him or feed him. He even smiled a little smile when I leant over his crib yesterday. Or at least I think it was a smile. It was probably just gas, but it made me smile back at him all the same. 

I don't hate him so much anymore. I don't see him as a drain on my energy and my spirit. In fact it horrifies me that I ever did. I guess for the first time, I'm beginning to feel the first stirrings of motherhood inside me, the irony of which I don't miss. Angel is the cause of my change in outlook, but he's also the one I'm betraying my son to be with. It's just another impossible situation in the long line of those I have had to face. It feels a little like I'm trying to juggle too many balls in the air at once. Riley. Caleb. Angel. My slaying. And I can't let any of them drop, otherwise the fragile equilibrium I have created in my life will fall tragically out of balance once more. 

Today, I push all my long-term worries out of my head, however. Today Angel has flown overnight from Sunnydale, and we are to meet up once more. He's got a room in a hotel in the nearest big town. I told Riley I wanted to go on a shopping trip and I have his jeep for the day while my mother-in-law looks after Caleb.

As I pull up outside the cheap motel I have to laugh a little. Most adulterous wives would be meeting for an afternoon of sordid sex, but not me. I'm just going to see Angel, to drink in his presence, to gaze into his soft chocolate eyes, to have his rich voice wash over my senses, to lean my head against his broad expanse of chest and feel his strong arms wrap around me once more. The most we will be doing is kissing, but somehow the forced innocence of the encounter makes it all the more treacherous. This is not about lust or boredom or any of the other standard excuses for extra-marital affairs. I didn't meet a guy in a bar and take him home on a whim. I didn't get drunk and make a mistake – my mistake was marrying Riley in the first place. 

I know what I'm doing here. I know how much my actions can hurt the people around me or even myself. But I just don't care. I love this man who takes me into his embrace as soon as I walk into the room and covers my lips with his before we can even say hello. And nothing matters to me more than this moment when he breaks off the kiss and whispers in my ear.

"Hey."

"Hey," I smile back. "Miss me?"

He kisses me back – hard – taking my breath away. "More than you could possibly imagine."

I cock my head to one side. "I don't know about that."

~~~

When I sneak back in the house, just before Riley is due to return from work. Mrs Finn looks at me suspiciously and I am almost positive I blush slightly.

"Did you have a nice time shopping?"

I smile uneasily. "Yeah, it was okay."

"You haven't bought much," she gestures to my empty hands.

I shrug, "There wasn't really a big selection of stores to choose from."

She raises her eyebrows. "Sorry we couldn't quite meet your high standards. Not everywhere is quite as glamorous as LA, you know. Anyway, you were out long enough considering how little there was to see."

I avoid meeting her eyes. "Well, I just wanted to make sure I didn't miss anything."

"Like your son," she snaps. "Or your husband – you certainly didn't miss either of them."

I am just about to retort to this, when the front door bangs and Riley walks in, grinning broadly. "Hi, how are my two favourite ladies?"

"Fine," Mrs Finn replies, sneaking a glance in my direction.

I turn around on my heel. "I'm just going to check on Caleb."

~~~

As the weeks pass by and Caleb gets bigger and livelier and commands a greater part in my affections, my capacity to tolerate Riley diminishes rapidly. I find myself constantly comparing him to Angel. The way his skin is clammy and red, instead of silver and smooth. How it feels when he touches me. The electricity that is missing from his kiss. The heat of his body stifling me. The nausea that builds in my stomach every time he comes near. 

And as it gets harder and harder to pretend to love him, it also becomes harder to contemplate leaving him. I can't abandon Caleb. The same baby I wanted dead two months ago I now can't imagine living without. It was amazing how as the depression faded away my love for my son soared. And as his character starts to emerge his stubborn streak and adventurousness become more obvious. I see more of myself in him than I do of Riley and I find it impossible as a mother not to make him the centre of my universe. Him and a certain other dark haired male, whom I have taken to writing quite graphic letters to recently (somehow the curse is no longer that much of an issue when we're living one thousand miles apart and I can't help it if my fantasy life gets a little out of hand sometimes). 

Afraid to write back, in case Riley finds the letters, Angel responds by calling when he sure Riley will be out at work. His voice is husky with need and the conversations are sometimes more difficult than if we didn't speak at all, due to the ache of missing him that rises in my heart each time he hangs up. I have to see him again. Soon. 

Brushing the tight braid out from my hair, I gaze at my reflection in the mirror. Sometimes I do this and imagine Angel hovering silently behind me, his image absent from the scene in front of me, but his reassuring presence still there. But tonight the illusion is ruined by Riley lifting weights in the corner of the bedroom. 

"Do you have to do that in here?" I complain, irritated.

"I have to keep fit, Buffy," he replies, totally failing to pick up on my annoyance.

"Yes, well can't you do it elsewhere?"

He turns on me, a hurt puppy-dog look on his face and guilt rips through me anew. "Is everything okay with you, Buffy?"

I lay the hairbrush down on the dressing table and force lightness into my voice. "Everything's fine."

"Are you sure?" He presses the issue. "Because, we can always make another appointment with Dr Jackson."

_My psychiatrist. _I snap at my husband once and he wants me to see a shrink. Excellent faith in my mental health Riley has there then. 

"I don't need to see Dr Jackson," I tell him firmly. "I'm just feeling a little tired, that's all." _Tired of you, tired of pretending to be someone I'm not, tired of being separated from the person I love._

"Maybe you should come to bed then."

I slip out of my robe and climb under the covers of the double bed, settling back on the pillows as far over to my side as I can comfortably get. Riley slides in next to me and sidles up beside me. 

"We haven't had an early night for a long time," he whispers in my ear.

My muscles tense and I flinch away from him. "Probably because you spend most evenings out drinking with your new buddies."

"Buffy," he chastises gently. "You know that's not true. I meet the guys a couple of times a week. Anyway, we're just settling into a new community here – it's good to socialise. You should meet up with some of the other wives sometime."

"I can't, I'm always busy looking after Caleb," I turn my body away from him.

"Ask Mom to sit for you – she won't mind."

I shake my head. "I don't like asking your mother for anything more than she's already given us."

"It's okay, she's family. She likes to help out." Riley kisses me wetly on the side of my cheek, reaching over to touch my arm.

"Likes to stick her nose in where it's not wanted, you mean," I mutter under my breath.

His hand wanders across from my arm, finding my breast through the thin cotton of my nightgown. His lips move up to my ear. "Why are we still talking about my mother?"

My heart screams in protest of his touch. _No, no, this is all wrong. Get him away from me!_ He draws his body closer to mine, his hot breath heavy on my neck, his fingers clumsy. I push him gently away, unable to withstand the assault any longer. 

"Please, Riley," I beg him to stop. "I said I was tired."

"I just thought it would be nice," he persists. "It's been a long time."

"Just because we're married doesn't mean you can force yourself on me," I hiss at him with angry eyes.

He pulls away abruptly, his expression hurt and a little bewildered. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"It's okay, Riley," I shake my head, trying to expel some of the loyalty to Angel that still lingers insistently there. "I'm sorry too, come here." I open my arms to him in a platonic hug. "It's just too soon after the baby, okay?"

He nods, settling his head down on the pillow next to mine. I lean over to switch of the light then, wrapped in another man's arms, I lie awake desperately planning when I can next see Angel. 

~~~

I make up an excuse. There's an emergency at the Hellmouth. I'm needed there to help out as the Slayer. 

_"I have to go, really. You know I wouldn't leave you and Caleb if it wasn't important…"_

He falls for it, hook, line and sinker. I had a whole cover story planned – some threat of apocalypse made up and an entire catalogue of excuses in case he wanted to come and fight with me. But he never even protests, just is gullible enough to believe every word I feed him. He even kisses me goodbye at the airport, wishing me good luck and making me promise to be careful for him and Caleb. 

As I retreat through the airport security, into the departures lounge he calls out over the heads of the crowd. "I love you!"

I just smile and wave and blow Caleb a kiss, pushing the feelings of guilt and disloyalty deep down inside me. I have to do this to keep sane, I remind myself. They need me and I need Angel, that's how it works. That's how it's gotta be. 

I fidget all through the plane journey, every extra minute I have to wait to meet Angel filling me with nervous anticipation. Annoyed by my constant foot and finger tapping, the woman beside me shoots me a hostile glare and when the plane lands, I practically leap out of my seat and run down the aisle. With only a small bag I took on the place as hand luggage, I skip straight past baggage claim, my eyes constantly scanning the sea of milling tourists for a glimpse of Angel. 

He spots my first, sidling up behind me and looping his arms around my waist. I lean back into him, relief and a new sense of inner peace washing over me. Whenever he is near suddenly everything is okay again. The night seems less dark and my problems not so overwhelming. 

We kiss and kiss as people weave around us, some oblivious, others making irritated or even risqué comments. But we ignore them all, lost only in each other. Eventually, we break apart, laughter in our eyes and on our lips. Then he carries my bag, like the true gentleman he is, and we walk hand-in-hand out of the airport.

"Are we heading straight back to Sunnydale?" I ask, as we climb into his antique car. He had to kill convention, didn't he, and be the only vampire to own and drive a convertible. 

Angel shakes his head. "No, I have something to show you in LA first."

"What?"

"It's a surprise."

I pout. "You know I hate surprises."

He thinks for a second. "You'll like this one."

I continue to pester him for an explanation as we drive through the streets of LA, but he expertly fields all my questions and refuses to reveal anything further. We pull up outside the Hyperion Hotel and I raise my eyebrows. 

"I thought you gave up this place when you moved back to Sunnydale."

He surveys the imposing façade of the building. "I thought it might come in useful to keep it. Besides, I don't spend all my time in Sunnydale, just when they need me there. I still have my business in LA with Wesley and Cordelia."

"Wow," I smile teasingly at him. "You are a busy boy, aren't you?"

He returns the grin. "Well, I have to do something to keep my mind off you."

I stand up on my tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the nose. "So, where's my surprise then?"

"You have to put this on first," he produces a heavy blindfold.

"Ooh, bondage – kinky," I mean my comment as a joke, but regret it immediately after it slips from my mouth, as the sexual tension between us steps up several notches. "Here," I take the blindfold off him feeling a bolt of electricity shoot through me as our hands brush. I am vaguely aware of my breathing becoming heavier and more ragged as I tie the cloth around my eyes, accepting Angel's help with the knot. 

He takes my arm and guides me in through the main doors, as it briefly strikes me how unequivocally I trust him. After all Angel and I have been through together – Angelus, Hell, him leaving me, the time that I try my best to forget when he was helping Faith and he hit me and yelled at me and I'd never felt less a part of his world – you'd think I may have some lingering doubts about my safety with him. But I don't. None at all. I would let him lead me anywhere, secure in the knowledge that he won't ever let anything bad happen. 

Eventually, we reach our destination and I try desperately to guess where we are. My footsteps echo on wooden floorboards and underneath the light smell of perfume in the air is a lingering one of paint and varnish. I sense a large room, with lots of empty space around us, but it is still warm and inviting.

Angel gently removes the blindfold and I gasp. It is the ballroom he showed me the time I first visited the hotel. Only now it has been restored to its full glory and is lit by a thousand candles. The chandeliers have been raised back up to the ceiling and their crystals sparkle like stars in the night sky.

"It's beautiful," I breathe. "When did you…?"

He smiles, glad that I like what I see. "I've been doing little bits and pieces to it every weekend for a while now. Gunn and Wesley helped too. And Cordelia picked out the décor."

I gaze around me in awe at the spectacular and opulent surroundings. "But this must have cost a fortune."

Angel shrugs. "It's not like I can't afford it."

"Wow," is about I can think of to say and I am still in shock as Angel locates a CD player he has already set up and presses a button on it, filling the room with classical music.

He holds out his hand. "Dance with me."

Happy tears fill my eyes as he draws me into his arms. "Always," I murmur back into his chest. 

~~~

The next morning I awake in Angel's arms and it is the most incredible feeling. I'd forgotten what it's like to wake-up happy, not to rue the moment I open my eyes, because the dream world I inhabit is so much better than reality. But now is not like that. Now I want to leap out of bed and run out on to the roof and scream at the world. _He loves me!_ But I don't, because that would mean leaving Angel's embrace and that's not something I want to do for a long time yet. 

Silently, I watch him sleep, marvelling that this magnificent creature is actually mine. _Mine. _He belongs to me. I own his soul and his heart and – God – his beautiful body. It's me he dreams of as his eyelids flutter, it's my name he murmurs every so often. I wonder what I possibly did to deserve such devotion, to warrant the attention of somebody as spectacular as him and sometimes I have trouble even believing it. I'd say it was a trick or a dream if it didn't feel so completely and utterly meant to be. 

I trace gentle patterns on his bare chest and he stirs, his eyes dragging themselves open and fixing me with an expression brimming over with love. 

"Buffy," he smiles groggily, pulling my body closer to his and catching my lips in a good morning kiss. 

The kiss deepens, as we are swept up in the passion of the moment. His hand slides down my side, resting on my hipbone and I entwine my fingers in his hair. Arching towards him, my thinly covered nipples graze against his chest and I can feel his arousal pressing against my bare thigh.

I break away, gasping for breath. "It's getting harder, isn't it?"

"What?" He fixes me with a confused look, disentangling our bodies. 

"Oh!" I suddenly realise my Freudian slip and blush beet red. "I mean, it's getting more difficult. This whole no sex thing."

"Buffy," he sighs. "Do you think we could possibly discuss this when at least one, or preferably both of us, actually have clothes on?"

"I'm just saying," I continue regardless. "That it's starting to drive me crazy – touching you, and holding you, and kissing you, and then suddenly having to stop." I let out a deep breath, trying to expel some of the unsatisfied lust building up inside me. "Definitely crazy," I smile wryly. "You?"

He leans his head back on the pillow, briefly closing his eyes. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it," he glances back over at me. "Oh, about 23 hours a day."

I frown. "What do you think about the other hour then?"

He grins mischievously at me. "Claudia Schiffer." 

"Hey," I playfully slap him on the chest. "I'm trying to be serious here. What are we going to do?"

The grin fades from Angel's face and he props himself up on his elbows. "What can we do?"

"I don't know," I reply, trying desperately to think of a way out of an impossible situation. "And if you suggest we break up, I'm gonna stake you right now, mister."

He sits up properly, leaning over to rest a gentle hand on my arm. "You know that if we get to the point where we can't control ourselves any longer, then we're going to have to stay apart."

"But we're still along way from that, right?" I ask anxiously and he nods somewhat unconvincingly. "Maybe there's something we can do, some way to fix the curse, or bind your soul, or something."

He shakes his head. "There's nothing that I've found in any texts."

"But magic's not really your area of expertise," I say, beginning to warm to my theme. "If we took the problem to a proper witch, somebody who's had experiences with Romany curses before, then we might be able to find a solution."

Angel looks at me quizzically. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Willow," I reply. "We could ask Willow."

~~~

"Buffy!" My best friend, or at least the girl who used to be my best friend before I dropped out of my life in Sunnydale and stepped into a new one with Riley, pulls me into a welcoming hug.

"It's great to see you," she effuses. "I didn't know you were back in town. Are Riley and Caleb with you?"

I shake my head. "No, it's just me."

"Well, that's good too," she perches cross-legged on a cushion on the floor and motions for me to sit down next to her. "We can have time to catch up."

"Yeah," I nod vaguely. "Will? We, uh, kinda need your help with something."

"We? You mean, you and Riley?"

I pause, taking a deep breath before I speak. "No, I mean me and Angel."

"You and Angel," she echoes. "I didn't even think there was a you and Angel anymore."

"Yeah, well," I reply sheepishly, tucking my hair self-consciously behind one ear as I do so. "It's sort of a long story."

"How long?" Willow asks, carefully measuring her words and her reaction.

"Three, nearly four months."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Buffy! You can't be serious! You're married to Riley. And…and, this is Angel we're talking about here. You remember, the vampire with the very _loseable _soul."

"That's the problem," I cut in.

"What?" She scrunches up her face in thought until comprehension dawns. "Oh. OH! But…"

I reach out and take her hand in mine. "Do you think you could help? Maybe look for a way to bind his soul?"

She tugs her hand gently away from mine and looks at me with an incredulous expression. "Buffy, are you asking me to help find you a way to cheat on your husband?"

I open and close my mouth several times without saying anything. "I-it's not like that," I finally stutter. 

"Then what is it like?" She persists in a soft voice. "Do you have any idea how much you're going to hurt Riley? It isn't worth it, Buffy. I know, I've been there stuck between Xander and Oz. No matter how you feel in the moment, it isn't worth losing the person you love."

"That's all I'm doing – holding on to who I love."

"I don't understand…" she looks at me, confused. 

"I never loved Riley," I clarify. "I had to marry him, because…because of the baby. But now I'm stuck. I don't want to leave Caleb without a mother, but I can't live without Angel either."

"But it can't possibly work," she protests. "Have you even given Riley a chance? He's a great guy and he really cares about you."

I drop my head into my hands, groaning in protest. "I know that, Will. That's not the issue here. No matter how much I try or how many good points of Riley's I can see, I'm never going to love him. Never. And being with him just makes me miserable. Did you see me after Caleb was born? I was a mess. I just…I just wanted everything to end – it all to be over. And then Angel came along and suddenly things started to get better. I need him. I need him so much, but everything's so complicated." My cheeks feel wet and suddenly I realise I am crying. Sobbing real tears for the unfathomable dilemma I am faced with.

"Oh, Buffy," Willow reaches a comforting hand out to stroke my hair. "I'll look into it okay. I can't make any promises, but I'll try."

"Thank you."

~~~

Another two days is all I feel I can risk with Angel and he drops my off at the airport forty-eight hours later, both our hearts breaking as we have to part once more. 

"I love you," he whispers in my ear at the very last minute.

"Love you too," I return, punctuated with a frantic kiss just as they are announcing the final boarding call for my flight. Reluctantly, I drag myself away from him, tears blurring my vision as I hurry down the gangway onto the plane.

This is the way it has to be, I remind myself as an almost mantra. Angel and I can never be together on a full time basis – there are just too many problems keeping us apart – and I have responsibilities to Riley and Caleb. This is the best possible arrangement, really. It's perfect. I have everything I always wanted: a home, a family who love me, an adorable son and my Angel on the side. I couldn't ask for anything more. So, why then, do I feel so dreadful about it all the time?

I catch a cab home from the airport at the other end, since Riley will be busy at work. But when I arrive back at the house, I am surprised to find him standing in the living room doorway, waiting for me. 

"Hey," I smile at him warmly. "I wasn't exactly expecting a welcoming party."

He gives me a strange look – vague, blank, perhaps a little confused, or maybe hurt. "How did it go?"

"Um, good," I reply, falling easily into my lie. "It was a bit of a close call, but in the end the Scooby gang were victorious once more. But then, hey, you know that already, 'cause the world didn't end."

"And how is everyone?"

"They're all fine – no broken bones. I mean Xander was hit over the head, but he doesn't really use that part of his anatomy much, so no big – "

"I called Giles," he interrupts in an ultra calm tone. "I wanted to find out if everything was okay, or whether I could help in any way."

I swallow deeply, saying nothing, just standing back and watching my carefully constructed web of deceit collapsing around me.

"And you know what?" Riley's voice begins to take on an edge of sarcastic anger. "He said that he wasn't aware of any particular imminent apocalypse, and that in fact, he didn't even know you were in Sunnydale at all. But then he did offer to call and ask Angel if he had any information on the problem. I told him not to bother."

"Riley – " I begin, but he cuts me off again.

"What's going on Buffy? Have you being seeing _him_ behind my back? Have you been FUCKING AROUND with a VAMPIRE?" He advances towards me, his fury evident. Gripping hold of my arm, he brings his face right up to mine and speaks in a quiet hiss. "Have you, huh? Answer me, Buffy!" He reinforces his demand by shaking me violently, and instinctively I lash out at the threat facing me, backhanding my own husband sharply across the jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor.

"No," I answer in a strangled voice, tears streaming down my cheeks. "NO!"

Riley looks up at me in disgust, blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth. "But, you were with him these last few days, weren't you? You used money _I _earned to pay for a flight to LA to be with _him._"

"I – yes…" I wipe my eyes furiously with the back of my hand. There is no point denying it now. Riley knows. Oh, God, he knows…

"How long has this been going on?" He asks, climbing unsteadily to his feet and I am suddenly aware that it was me who knocked him down on the ground like that. It was me. I hit him. I hurt him. Oh God, oh God, oh God. 

"I'm sorry…" I blurt out. "I didn't mean to…"

"How. Long." 

I flinch in the wake of Riley's intensity. He is normally so steady, so mild and benevolent. I've only ever seen him this way a few times before and that was when the Initiative messed him up, when they were poisoning him with their drugs and their electronic chips. But I don't understand what is making him behave like this now.

"Since the time we went to Sunnydale together – you remember, after the hospital…"

"So, all this time, you've been telling me lies." Riley paces the room, agitated. "How did you work things out? Was he ever here? Did you kiss him in OUR HOME? Did you let him _touch _Caleb? Did you laugh that stupid Riley's too dim to ever notice anything?"

I shake my head, chanting the answer. "No, no, no, no, no."

Riley takes a deep breath, visibly calming himself. "Well, it stops now. You're not going back to Sunnydale and you're never going to see Angel again."

I gaze open-mouthed at him, a terrible void cracking open in my heart. I had expected Riley to throw me out, for the marriage to be over. It would have hurt, but I would have coped, I would have run back to Angel and he'd have made everything feel a little better. But now I don't understand what is happening. "What?" I stutter out.

"I forgive you," Riley says, making the statement sound oh so reasonable. "I never thought our relationship would be perfect, Buffy. I never expected you to love me as much as I love you. So, I'm willing to make allowances. We can go along like nothing happened – we can forget all this silly business – as long as you promise to never see him again."

"But, but, you don't understand," I reply in confusion. "I love Angel. I need him – I want to be with him, not you…"

He advances towards me, gently taking my hand, and speaking to me as though I am a child. "No, you don't understand, Buffy. Either you break things off with Angel or you never see Caleb ever again."

My stomach suddenly goes hollow and I feel sick. "No, no, you wouldn't…you couldn't."

He nods. "Yes, I could. What judge in their right mind would grant custody to an adulterous mother – to one who tried to kill her own baby, whose mental health is questionable, who dropped out of college and has no job, no money, no future? I'll take you to court for him and I _will_ win."

The full truth of what Riley is condemning me to finally hits me. Angel or Caleb. My lover or my son. There is no halfway point here, no custody arrangements or stolen phone calls. I have to choose one and my choice will be forever. 

_No Angel, never again. _The thought horrifies me. It won't just be like breaking up, where there was always the faint hope in the back of my mind that we might be reunited one day, that our love was eternal and finally our dreams would be realised. There will be no idle fantasies, of hazy futures, where the _Shanshu _he self-consciously revealed to me one bittersweet night has happened and we make love all day languidly in the sunshine. There will not even be any chance encounters, not a single moment I can hold on to in order to persuade myself we are still connected. There will be no jealous rages, or pain-filled eyes accusing me of forgetting him. No awkward instances where our history stretches out between us like a beautiful tapestry embroidered with pain and heartbreak and everlasting love. Just memories and the ache of separation.

But my son. The tiny new life I gave birth to, the individual I have the greatest responsibility to in the world. How can I leave him, when I'm sworn to protect him, to care for him, to be a mother in every way possible? How can I just abandon him for my own selfish reasons? He'll hate me for the rest of his life – not just because I left, but because Riley will make sure of it. How can I create that situation, tear a family apart? I can't. 

I sink to the floor, sobbing openly. Riley crouches down next to me. "Do you promise?" He asks in a whisper.

"Yes," I reply in a cracked and broken voice. "Yes."

"Good," he wraps his arms around me, rocking me tenderly. "There you see – everything's okay now. It's all better. Everything's turned out fine."

To be continued…


	5. Chapter Five

After spending approximately three hours crying my heart out, I suddenly find myself to surprisingly calm – resigned, I suppose. It's like I've reached that point beyond hope, beyond unfairness or anger at the world, beyond soul-wrenching pain, where all I can do is give in and wander around with haunted eyes, a ghost of my former self. Then just as I think I've shed all the tears that are in me, that I've come to terms with the situation and accepted the crushing despair…then it hits me.

_Angel. _I will have to talk to him, have to tell him I can never see him again, have to forcibly sever the connection between us that seemed suddenly to be stronger than ever. What am I going to say? What can I say? How can I possibly look into his beautiful face, and his loving gaze and then leave both forever? But I won't get that option to, will I? Riley will never let me go back to Sunnydale, not now. I'll have to phone or write – I won't even have the option of breaking both our hearts in person.

I remember all too vividly when Angel did this to me, when he called off our relationship. There were different reasons, of course, but the basis was the same. It is impossible for us to be together. I hate destiny and fate and whoever or whatever is up there controlling us all. How much more suffering can They possibly visit upon Angel and I? How much more crap can They dole out? We have both given our lives (on some occasions literally) to fighting their battles and how do They repay us? By taking every opportunity They can to make us miserable. All I ask, all I ever wanted, was a chance to be with the man I love. I do (or did, for now I know I never will again) the Slaying gig for free and at considerable cost and great danger to myself. I forewent my teenage years, gave them up in favour of the greater good. I sent my lover to Hell to save the world. I even died, goddamn it, and in reward I get nothing but more pain and suffering.

And now I don't care anymore. What's the point in being good and righteous and just if you're only going to get screwed in return? You may as well be evil and enjoy the advantages while they last. Make a pact with the devil – he has better benefits. If Angel were here right now, right this instant, I'd jump him and say fuck the consequences. Fuck Angelus too – and why not, as long as I can get my thrills along the way.

But no, I don't feel like that, really I don't. I little part of me thinks I should, though. A little part of me is filled with blind, seething rage at the world for repeatedly taking every tiny bit of happiness I ever had away. And I hold on to that part, relish any emotion other than painful emptiness, because it means I'm not dead inside. Well, not yet, anyway. 

Several days pass and I don't get an opportunity to call Angel. Riley doesn't leave me alone anymore. When he's at work, he sends his interfering mother round to watch me. The total invasion of privacy feels like claustrophobia, like there are people around me all the time, watching me, crowding me, suffocating me. I can't breathe. _I can't breathe – they took my oxygen away…_

One evening, Riley is in the shower and I grab the opportunity while I can, dialling Angel's number with shaking hands. He answers; his voice rich, smooth and melodic, and my already cracked heart shatters into a million more pieces.

"Buffy?" He asks when I don't say anything, somehow sensing my presence even down the phone line.

"Angel," I choke out, sobbing already. One word from him and I am crying. Crying torrents of tears that I don't ever think will stop – at least not in my soul they won't. 

"What's wrong?" His tone shifts rapidly from idly concerned to frantic with worry. "Did something happen? Are you okay? Buffy – speak to me!"

"I-I…" a hiccup bubbles up through my sobs. "Riley – he knows."

Angel sighs heavily, the sound amplified by the telephone and roaring in my ears. "Oh. Is everything…uh, what did he say?"

I shake my head, even though I know Angel can't see it, an involuntary denial of the events of the past few days. "I'm so, so sorry," I whisper.

"You'resorry?" Confusion tinges his voice. "What for? Buffy, what's going on there?"

"I can't…we can't… Oh, God Angel – "

"Riley didn't react well, I take it," he interrupts my tearful babble, sounding suddenly detached and very, very far away. It's like he knows what's coming and wants to protect himself from it, wants to switch off all his emotions and be stoic guy in the wake of my complete breakdown. 

"He made me promise – that I'd stop seeing you or he'd take Caleb away. I didn't want to, but he made me. He forced me to choose. I'm sorry. He was going to take my son away from me! And I couldn't, I couldn't…"

"It's okay," Angel soothes me gently. "Shush, it's all right. I understand. You made the right choice. I understand."

"I love you, I only ever loved you…"

"I love you too."

I hear the water turn off and Riley start to move about the bedroom. "I-I have to go," I tell Angel desperately. "Or Riley'll hear me. Oh, God, I want to kiss you one last time."

"Pretend you are," he answers, his own calm composure starting to crack a little. "Close your eyes and imagine it."

"Will you do the same?"

"Yes."

I squeeze my eyes shut and I can almost feel him, his still body looming over mine, his cool skin brushing up against me. His lips touch mine and I gasp, tasting him sweet and fresh. Like moonlight. Like summer rain. His hands tangle in my hair and I forget to breathe, forget everything but him. Then he pulls away, leaving me bereft, craving more, missing his touch already. If we could kiss for eternity it wouldn't be long enough. 

"How was it?" He asks, sounding a little breathless himself, even despite not needing the air.

"Unbelievable." I murmur back.

"Buffy!" Riley shouts from upstairs. "Do you know where my new blue shirt is?"

Reality comes crashing back down on me. I am not kissing my lover, but instead saying a final goodbye to him. "I love you," I tell Angel down the phone.

"You said that already."

"I just wanted to make sure you knew."

"I know," he answers in a sombre tone. "Buffy, shouldn't you…"

"Go," I finish his sentence. "Yeah, I probably should."

Footsteps fall on the stairs and I drop the receiver guiltily back into it's cradle, making a silent promise as I do so. _I'll never stop loving you. I'll never forget…_

"Buffy? My shirt?" Riley's voice comes from the doorway.

I keep my face turned away from him so that he won't see my tear tracks and bloodshot eyes. "Uh, it's in the laundry. I ironed it for you this morning."

He turns to go and then pauses. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," I answer, trying to force a measure of cheerfulness into my voice. "Everything's fine. Why on earth shouldn't it be?"

~~~

Monotonous days stretch into endless nights spent curled up in shivering ball by Riley's side. I can't get warm. I lie wrapped in three blankets, the heater on full blast, and still the cold is too much for me. While Riley strips to his boxer shorts and climbs out from underneath the sheets, his skin weeping sweat, I feel like my whole body has frozen, my heart turned to ice. 

The nights are the worst, they're when I miss him the most, when it feels the most real. During the day I am like a robot, automatically going through the motions of life. Care for Caleb, clean the house, do the shopping and the cleaning and the washing and whatever little jobs I can find to occupy my mind and keep the denial alive. Then I can convince myself that Angel and I aren't over, that I'm just waiting for a phone call or a letter or a stolen weekend. But at night, when the moon shines high in the sky and the breeze whispers his name, then I know I'm truly alone. 

One evening I am in the midst of washing the dinner plates, slipping easily into the rhythmic routine. Dip in the water, wipe with the sponge, dip again, wipe again, next dish… When the phone interrupts me with its jarring ring. Riley rushes to answer it – he always does now. Partly, I suppose, because he doesn't trust me and he fears it will be Angel, partly because the call is likely to be for him anyway. The only person who ever phones me anymore is Mom, and that's once a week on a Sunday. Today is Tuesday, so I ignore the sound, concentrating instead on the soap bubbles before me. Such pretty colours, the way the light is split into its spectrum. I wonder why it does that…

"Buffy!" Riley calls. "It's for you. Willow."

Surprised, I take the phone off him silently, our eyes meeting in a wordless glare until he takes the hint and leaves the room. Lifting the receiver to my ear I speak into it quietly.

"Hi, Will."

"Buffy!" She greets me enthusiastically. "I've got some great news. Well, not great in the strictest sense, because it could result in hurting a lot of people, which would definitely not be of the good. And I'm not sure how ethical it is to be doing this exactly – but I think we've both built up a fair amount of positive karma from the whole demon slaying/saving the world multiple times over thing, so I guess we can bend the rules a little here. And I think I should shut up now. So, summary: news to be told." She pauses for breath. "Buffy are you there?"

"Yeah, sorry, Willow," I answer distractedly. "So, what's the big scoop then?"

"Well, I looked into Angel's curse, like you guys asked me to – and I found a way of fixing the loophole. It's incredibly easy really – when you know what you're doing, of course, I wouldn't exactly recommend just going around randomly messing with soul restoration spells – but a few simple Latin incantations and Angel can have as many happies as he likes. But not too many, obviously," she adds hurriedly. "And only with you."

She stops, awaiting an answer, which I struggle to provide while simultaneously trying to deal with the yawning chasm that has opened up in my heart once more. Talk about ironic, Angel and I are separated forever and suddenly the curse becomes a non-issue. Willow's words echo through my head. _Angel can have as many happies as he likes._ What if he moves on, finds somebody else? What if he forgets me?

"I, uh, thanks," I mumble, my voice thick in my throat.

"Buffy?" Willow asks in concern. "Are you okay? This is good news, right?"

"Riley…" I whisper.

"Yeah, I feel bad about that too," she replies. "It's not fair on him. But when you love someone that much there's no right and wrong – you just have to follow your heart."

I groan audible in response. That is exactly how I feel – how I felt. That my love for Angel eclipsed all my other moral obligations and if I was acting under a pure motive then my behaviour was blameless. But I was wrong, so, so, very wrong. "No," I correct Willow. "Riley found out. Angel and I are over. Everything's over."

"Oh," she is suddenly shocked out of her talkative mood. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"No," I feel tears beginning to prick at my eyes once more and try to will them away. I won't cry again, I won't. I've already shed an ocean of tears – no more, please. "Riley gave me an ultimatum. Angel or Caleb. There was no other choice."

"Oh, Buffy, I'm so sorry…"

"I don't know what to do, Will," I beg for my best friend to make it all better. "It just hurts so much. It's so lonely without him…"

"Maybe things will improve in time," she tries lamely to reassure me.

"Yeah, maybe I'll just stop expecting anything more from life." I comment bitterly.

An awkward silence stretches between us, which Willow finally breaks. "You know I'm still going to have to bind Angel's soul. Now that I've found the spell, I have to perform it. Just to make sure Angelus never makes another appearance."

"Sure," I agree. I've met Angelus, I've seen the swathe of destruction he cuts wherever he roams and I would never wish that on the world again. But in another way it sets Angel free. Free to find somebody else to love, to live a life without the spectre of his demon half hanging over his head. To be happy – without me. And just thinking about that hurts. "Do whatever you think is right."

"He won't…you know…with anyone else."

I smile sadly, wanting to believe her, but not being able to. I wasn't going to sleep with anyone else either. When Angel returned from Hell and our entire relationship was forbidden, then I was convinced I would never have sex with another man ever. I just wouldn't have it, period. It was Angel or nobody. If I wasn't with him then I didn't care. Then he left and I resolved not to have sex just to spite him. I didn't want to move on, wanted to show him what a miserable and lonely existence he had condemned me to, how I could only ever love him and solely him. But then somehow all my assertions just slipped away, forgotten, and I was lying between Parker's red sheets taking a man I hardly knew inside me and not feeling a single thing. 

"Thank you," is the only answer I give. "Thank you for trying."

"It's gonna be okay Buffy, I promise…"

"Bye, Willow. I'll see you soon, okay?"

I just catch her tentative 'okay' in reply as I replace the handset. Her reassurances mean nothing to me, I stopped believing in promises long ago. 

~~~

Weeks become months and robo-Buffy reigns supreme. My entire existence is spent just going through the motions. Not feeling, not thinking, just doing. It's the only way I can cope; to push every little piece of me that ever felt anything deep down inside me and keep it so well hidden that eventually I forget it's there at all. 

At least Riley relaxes his obsessive guard over me. I am no longer watched twenty-four hours a day, but it hardly matters because by now I've lost even the will to defy him. My desperate need to call Angel, to just hear his voice, has faded in the light of the realisation that it's easier not to have any contact with him at all. Then I can pretend I don't miss him all that much. I can play down my memories and become unaccustomed to the thrill that shoots through me every time he is near. I can learn to live my life without him, painful though it may be. 

Tonight Riley has planned a sort of party, probably more of a gathering of his friends from work and their wives. He says it's for me, to try and get me to make friends, to meet new people and finally settle properly into life here. I suppose he thinks the more connections I have in town, then the less likely I will be to leave. He wants me to forget Sunnydale and California, leave Angel and my little foray back into slaying behind me. He wants a proper wife who keeps house and bears his children and hosts weekly coffee mornings. The more I contemplate the idea the more it makes me laugh. For however much Riley maintains he loves me, he can't possibly, because if he did then he would know that the woman he dreams of isn't me. And she never will be, no matter how hard he tries to make this the case.

I play my part, however, and cater for the party. Beer and snacks are bought and made and the backyard strung with fairy lights. I put on the dress Riley gave me especially for the occasion, a short cotton slip in pastel colours with a floral print. A far cry from my normal tastes in fashion, but it is easier just to go along with Riley than to bother arguing. Now I much prefer acquiescence and a quiet life to arguments, tears and repeated threats of severing any further contact between my son and me. Since the time he first found out about my affair with Angel, I have rebelled against Riley only a handful of times. Every fight I have lost, brutally and painfully, my hands aching for violence, my heart weighed down with guilt, my fury without outlet. So, I've learnt it's better not to object at all, just to let the circumstances wash over me. Riley has me trapped here and the sooner I get used to the idea the less unhappiness I will feel. 

As the house fills steadily with people, I do my best to avoid them, choosing to hide in the kitchen under the pretence of preparing more sandwiches, chips and dips. My ever-present Slayer-senses detect a movement behind me and I spin around, automatically brandishing the bread knife aggressively, to be faced with one of our guests.

"Hi," he offers a sheepish grin. "Sorry if I scared you."

"It's okay," I shake my head, lowering the knife. "You didn't, really. I'm just a little jumpy."

"I came to get some more beers," he holds up and empty bottle and I fetch him another six-pack from the refrigerator. I follow him outside with several more rounds of drinks, but before I can head back to the sanctuary of the kitchen he catches my arm.

"Why don't you stay out here and talk a while?" I hesitate and he smiles encouragingly. "It's all right, I don't bite."

I flinch visibly at his words, memories of having heard them too many times before coming flooding back to me. But this isn't Sunnydale – there aren't vampires lurking around every corner. And this man is just an ordinary guy, he's not going to steal my heart and my virginity, crush me with a deeper pain than I could ever imagine, then rip out my throat and drink me dry until I'm a part of him and he's a part of me and we lose all sense of ever being separate people in the first place…

"I scared you again, didn't I?" The man looks embarrassed. "I just seem to have this knack of saying exactly the wrong thing all the time."

"It's not your fault," I answer quietly.

"Do you think we could start over? And maybe this time finish in a place where you don't hate me?" He offers me his hand to be shaken. "I'm Mark Jacobs."

"Buffy Summers – I mean Finn, Buffy Finn," I laugh slightly. "I still haven't gotten used to the whole change of name thing yet."

"I take it you and Riley haven't been married all that long then."

"About nine months," I reply. "And I'm sure you can do the math."

His face clouds over with confusion for a second, then understanding dawns. "Ah. Yeah, Riley's shown me pictures of your son."

"You too?" I ask with an apologetic smile. "He can be a little enthusiastic about these things."

"I got that. But I bet he's a great father."

"Yeah, he is, I guess…"

Mark seems to sense the sudden downturn in my mood and attempts to quickly change the subject. "Where's Caleb tonight, then?"

"Upstairs, asleep." I shake my head disbelievingly, "he could probably sleep through an earthquake. Definitely doesn't take after his mother in that respect," I continue, thinking of all my recent sleepless nights. "I should probably go check on him."

"Why don't I come with you?" Mark suggests. "Keep you company, see if he's really as cute as Riley claims."

"Sure," I shrug and lead him up the stairs. 

Entering Caleb's room, I lean over the crib and look down at my son. Even putting aside my prejudice as his mother I have to admit that he is absolutely adorable. His huge hazel eyes blink open in response to my presence and he kicks his feet, making little gurgling noises. This is the reason I stay with Riley, I force myself to remember. This is what makes all the pain of living without Angel bearable. 

"Hey, little guy," I pick the baby up in my arms, cradling him close to my chest. Mark reaches out with his fingertips to tickle Caleb's feet and matching smiles break out on both mother and child's faces. If only there was another man here for me to share this with – a man with the darkest, most intense eyes I have ever seen, his gaze something to drown in – then the moment would be perfect. 

The sound of footsteps on the stairs causes me to turn my head towards the door, my expression undoubtedly guilty as I am caught once more in fantasies of my former lover. Riley's eyes narrow in barely concealed anger as he takes in the situation. 

"The party's downstairs Mark, shouldn't you be down there enjoying yourself, not letting Buffy _distract_ you?" He slurs his words slightly, making it obvious he has been drinking. That's something he's been doing more and more recently, to the point it's starting to worry me. But then maybe he realises as well as me that there's something seriously wrong in this marriage and is only finding his own way of trying to ignore it. 

Mark glances uncertainly between Riley and I, then makes his excuses and heads back down the way we came. Calmly, I lay Caleb back in his crib and turn to my husband.

"Have you quite finished your display of testosterone-poisoning?" I ask acerbically, suddenly lacking in patience. 

"What were you doing up here with him?" Riley demands.

"Mark just wanted to see the baby, that's all. What's the matter with you?" I go to leave the room, brushing past Riley as I do so.

He grabs hold of me roughly, before I can pass him, leaning his face so close to mine I can smell the alcohol on his breath. "That's exactly what I want to know," he hisses. "What is the matter with me? What's so dreadful about me you can't even force yourself to love me? Why do you keep on throwing yourself at other men?"

I pull easily away from him, answering in an equally low and hostile voice. "I wasn't throwing myself at anybody."

"That's not how it looked to me."

"Well you're wrong."

"Once an adulteress, always an adulteress. Do you really care about our son that little?"

"I don't believe you!" I raise my voice in incredulity, my overstretched temper finally snapping. "I do everything you want. I play the dutiful wife. I cut all contact with Angel. I pretend to all the world that I'm actually happy with you. And still it's not enough! I can't give you anything else Riley – I'm spent. And I won't live like this, afraid to do anything in case you suddenly don't like it and take Caleb away because of it. You can't use my son to blackmail me anymore!"

"So, what are you going to do about it then?" He asks mockingly, swaying a little on his feet, proving himself to be a lot drunker than I had ever originally suspected. 

Something inside me finally breaks looking at this man who is supposed to be husband, this man who I've come to hate instead of loving. I whisper a silent apology to my son before speaking in a cold voice. "Leave. I'm going to leave you, Riley."

He stands blocking the doorway. "No, you're not. I won't let you."

"And what are you going to do to stop me?" I go to push him out the way, confident that he could not possibly be an obstacle to me as the Slayer. But he surprises me, lashing out with his fists, putting all his army combat training to good use. He hits me square in the face, the blow glancing off my cheekbone and filling my vision with stars. His left knuckle follows swiftly, coming round in a direct punch to my stomach. I crumple under such an unexpected attack, the beating nothing to what I have experienced in the past, but somehow causing me much more pain. Landing heavily on the floor, I gaze up with surprised and frightened eyes, shocked that a man I trusted so much should be capable of something this out of control and violent.

Voices register vaguely rushing towards us and within seconds I am surrounded by a gang of concerned party guests, each of who stare accusingly at Riley, their good opinion of him suddenly shattered. Recovering myself slightly, I climb unsteadily to my feet, helped by a woman of about my age, whose name I don't know and am now never likely to either. 

"Are you okay?" She asks in concern. "Can we do anything for you? Take you to the hospital?"

I shake my head in response to the offer, going straight over to my crying son and cradling him in my arms. "There's no need to go to the hospital. I would be grateful if somebody would give me a lift to the airport, though."

~~~

I spend the entire flight in a daze, reality only hitting me when the plane lands in Los Angeles and I step out on to the tarmac there. I left Riley. I walked out of his house with nothing more than my purse and the clothes on my back and I took Caleb with me too. The problem that faces me next, however, is what the Hell am I supposed to do next?

Instinct takes over and, acting on pure unadulterated need, I call Angel. I think I cry a little and I know I am completely incoherent. But the gist of the message comes through. I love you. I'm in LA – please come get me. And of course he comes, because he loves me back and there is no way he could possibly keep away.

But whatever I expected upon our reunion, it doesn't happen. He doesn't take me in his arms and kiss me wordlessly, making everything better in the process. He doesn't promise to be with me always. And he certainly doesn't sweep me off my feet and make passionate love to me all night, now that his soul is well and truly bound and there is nothing further to stop him. 

He just takes me home – back to the Hyperion since it is closer – rocks Caleb to sleep then tucks me up in his bed so I can get my own much needed rest. Before he switches the light off, however, he lightly caresses the bruise on my cheek.

"Did _he _do this to you?" Angel asks in a tight voice.

I say nothing in reply, which is answer enough. Angel clenches his fists, anger flashing in his eyes. "He won't ever do it again."

"No," I reply, holding Angel's gaze steadily. "I know he won't."

There is a long silence, during which Angel seems reluctant to leave me. I tentatively reach out for his hand, more desperate than ever for his reassuring presence. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

"Buffy, I'm not sure…"

"Please," I interrupt his protests.

Silently he nods his assent, removing his shoes and jacket before sliding underneath the covers next to me, his arms sliding automatically around my waist.

Angel turns out the beside lamp and the room plunges into darkness, which for once does not seem scary or threatening, but merely peaceful. I find myself drifting off to sleep almost immediately, safe in the sanctuary of Angel's embrace. Before I am fully unconscious, I mutter a question under my breath, as much to myself as to him.

"Will you stay with me every night afterwards too?"

Maybe I am dreaming already, or maybe my imagination invented it, but I think I hear him whisper his own reply: 

"Yes."

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter Six

I wake up slowly in a warm bed with soft, silk sheets, visions of pleasant dreams still lingering in my head. For a second I don't remember where I am, but I'm so comfortable that this gap in my knowledge doesn't particularly bother me. I sit up and stretch languidly, my features pulled into a large yawn, my eyes blinking in order to adjust to the darkness of my surroundings. 

As the last vestiges of sleep clear from my mind, my memory gradually returns and I automatically reach up to touch the already healed wound on my cheekbone. Disjointed pictures come flooding back. Riley's face contorted in anger. The shocked looks of our guests. Angel with his hand held loosely in mine as he led me out of the airport. For a second it is all too much to comprehend and I just want to curl into a ball and go back to sleep where none of this existed, where all my problems were forgotten.

Then the door clicks open and Angel flicks on the overhead light, illuminating the gentle concern of his expression. 

"Hey," he greets me softly. "How are you feeling?"

I shrug and give him a weak smile. "Numb, I guess. Like this is all a dream and I'm going to wake-up any second. How long was I out, anyway?"

"About twelve hours. I didn't want to disturb you – thought you needed the rest."

"I did." _Twelve hours sleep_ – that's the most I've had since before Caleb was born. 

At the thought of my son, my mothering instinct goes into overdrive. "Where's Caleb? He should have had a feed by now." I pull myself out of bed, searching desperately for the rest of my clothes.

Angel catches the tops of my arms, halting my frantic behaviour. "It's okay, calm down. Cordelia's looking after him for you."

"Cordelia!" I yelp. "You entrusted the care of my baby son to Cordelia Chase? What were you thinking?"

He looks a little affronted by my verbal assault, which is probably justified since he did drop everything to pick me and Caleb up from the airport last night on no notice whatsoever. And he has taken us in and given me his bed and listened to me cry over my disaster of a marriage to another man. And now I've just insulted one of his best friends. So much for gratitude. But still…Cordelia and babies aren't really mixable things.

"She's changed a lot since you knew her," Angel reassures me. "She's become a lot more responsible and mature. And she's got Wesley and Gunn to back her up if she needs them. Here – " he produces a cellular phone from his inside jacket pocket, "you can even call to check up on them if you like."

The image of Angel with a cell phone is so incongruous I have to look twice, before shaking my head to decline the offer. "It's all right. If you say things are fine, then I trust you." 

"Good," he smiles softly, touching my hand gently before putting away the phone and rising from his position seated on the bed next to me. "Now, would you like some breakfast? Or I should probably say lunch, considering how late it is."

My stomach growls hungrily at his suggestion of a meal. "As long as it's food then I don't care what else you call it. It will be food, won't it? Because I'm not really a big blood drinker myself."

He grins. "Don't worry, I have diversified into solid foods slightly. How about some eggs?"

I lick my lips. "Sounds good to me. And toast. And coffee. Ooh, and pancakes, with maple syrup…do you know how to make pancakes…?"

~~~

I push my empty plate away with a sigh of satisfaction. As it turns out, Angel does know how to make pancakes and very delicious ones too. If I hadn't been head over heels in love with him already then the sudden realisation he can actually cook would have sealed the deal. He is definitely going to come in useful in the future. 

_The future._ That's something I haven't really let myself think about yet. When I left Riley I wasn't thinking past the nest five minutes, or I probably wouldn't have done it at all. I tore apart my family and my marriage – there will be no reconciliation now, which I am only sorry about for Caleb's sake. Personally, if I never saw Riley again it would be too soon. But I'm going to have to, we're going to have to, somehow, resolve the issue of our son. There will probably be lawyers and fights and almost certainly a divorce case, and it's going to be vindictive and painful – something I am not looking forward to. 

"So," Angel begins with a serious expression.

"So," I echo. "What happens now?"

"That's what I was going to ask you. What do you want to do next?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I don't know what I should be doing."

He shakes his head. "I didn't ask that. I asked what did you _want_ to do."

I look up at him in surprise. My own wishes and desires have so long been impossible to fulfil that I have forgotten to even consider them seriously. My eyes meet Angel's and my stomach suddenly goes hollow with need. "I-I want to kiss you."

He lowers his lips slowly to mine, brushing them tenderly with a feather-light touch. "I think that's easily enough arranged." His tongue traces my lower lip and teeth, before I lose all patience and crush my mouth against his, bringing my hands up to caress his neck, closing my eyes and drowning in the feeling.

We pull away from each other and he smirks good-naturedly at me. "Feel better now?"

I shake my head. "Uh-uh, I think more intensive therapy is needed."

Angel raises one eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

I tilt my face for another kiss, this one teasing and fun, tongues darting, teeth nipping gently. But the lightness doesn't last for long. Soon we are kissing deeply, my arms wrapped around his neck, his fingers in my hair. Arousal shoots through my body, making my heart pound and my breathing ragged. This is where we usually stop, where one of us calls a halt to the proceedings and tries to relieve the hot and heavy mood with a reassuring smile or a witty retort. But now there is no need to pull away and absolutely no stopping. 

Angel's hands drop to my waist then slide underneath my buttocks, lifting me out of the chair and up against his body. I cling on to him with my legs, never once parting our lips as he carries me in this awkward position out of the kitchen and into a nearby living room. Finally, unable to balance any longer he drops me onto the sofa and unwilling to sever our connection, I pull him down on top of me. 

"Buffy," he murmurs as my fingers fumble at the buttons of his shirt, tracing the well-defined musculature of his chest underneath. "Are you sure?"

"Mmm," I moan, sliding my tongue lower down his throat, to circle his adam's apple and then tracing the still veins of his neck. "You asked me what I _wanted_, didn't you?" I whisper hoarsely.

"Yes," he replies in sort of a yelp, as my hands travel down his body stopping at his crotch. 

"Well, I want you. I love you, Angel."

"I love you too," he returns, a film of tears shining in his eyes. His lips drop to cover mine once more, and after that no words are spoken. 

~~~

The harsh jangle of a telephone disturbs our post-coital haze. I tighten my grip on Angel, not wanting him to move away from this delicious position where his chest his my pillow and his hands rest comfortably on my naked stomach, his unnecessary breath tickling my ear. I'm afraid it will be bad news, a revelation that will tear me away from the wonderful feeling of being safe in my lover's arms and rip away all the bliss that came with only our second ever time of making love on Angel's chaise longue downstairs. And our third ever time on the bedroom floor. Then our fourth in the bed. Then our fifth, which I'm not sure I should technically count, since it was more just groping, owing to the fact we were both too exhausted to really but up much of a serious effort at sex, but still hadn't had enough of each other to just be satisfied with simple sleep…

"Buffy," Angel interrupts my private reverie. "Can you let me go so I can answer the phone?"

"No," I reply with a pout eerily reminiscent to that of a petulant child. "I'm not letting you go ever again."

"I won't go far, I promise," he kisses the top of my head lightly in order to prove his sincerity. "I just have to get that – it might be Cordelia."

At this reminder that my son is out there being cared for by Cordelia 'You can never have too many shoes' Chase, I reluctantly release Angel allowing him to scoot over and grab the receiver of his bedside table. 

"Yes," he barks with obvious irritation into the phone. There is a pause during which Angel listens. "Yes, she's here," he finally says and I sit upright in bed, wondering who the caller is. "Do you want to speak to her? No, that's okay, I can pass the phone straight over. Buffy – " he turns to me. "It's Giles."

"Oh," I let all the breath out of me in a sigh of relief. I wasn't sure quite who I expected – perhaps Riley in a yelling fit, or Mom sounding disappointed in me for being a twenty-one-year-old with a failed marriage, or even the police wanting to arrest me for kidnapping my own child – but Giles ranks low on the list of evils for me to face. "Sure," I take the phone off Angel, settling back against his chest as I speak into it, so he can hear both sides of the conversation.

"Hey, Giles."

"Buffy, are you all right? Riley rang me and said you walked out on him." Disapproval tints his voice. "Willow suggested that you may be here," he sighs loudly. "Buffy, why?"

"What did Riley say to you exactly?" I ask, my throat feeling tight.

"Just that you two had an argument and you stormed out in the middle of a party, taking Caleb with you. Buffy – he sounded devastated."

"Did he also tell you that he hit me?" I say to Giles tiredly, suddenly totally lacking the patience or the energy to deal with this whole mess. "Did he also tell you that we'd only been together these past few months, because he threatened to prevent me from ever seeing my son again if I left." Angel reached up to my shoulder, gently massaging a knot of tension from my neck that I didn't even know was there until his skilled fingers begin to relieve it.

"Bloody Hell," Giles exclaims. "He actually laid a hand on you? Just wait until I see that boy…"

"No," I interrupt. "I can handle this myself. It's okay. Don't blame Riley, I don't think he meant to do it. He's just messed up."

A small protective growl comes from behind me, and I cannot help but smile. "Besides," I joke to Giles. "I think Angel probably wants the monopoly on beating the crap out of my lowlife husband."

"Ah, Angel," Giles echoes and I can almost see him stood there, phone tucked underneath his chin, cleaning his glasses thoughtfully. "May I ask what's going on there?"

"You _may_ ask," I reply equivocally. "But I don't think you'll get an answer you'll approve of."

"Then it's true. Willow said you'd probably want to get back together with him."

A lump forms in my throat as I think of all the problems Angel and I have had in the past and how Giles, especially, has suffered from them. "I'm sorry, I know you probably don't like the idea."

Giles sighs. "I just want you to be happy, Buffy. And of you can be with Angel, then I can hardly be against your relationship. Now that there's no further danger of Angelus appearing then who you choose to see is really none of my business."

"But, I'd still like it of you gave us your blessing…" I persist.

"Buffy," Giles interjects. "Would anything I say really change your mind about Angel?"

I smile softly, leaning back against the subject of our conversation and entwining my free hand with one of his. "No."

"Then you should just go and be with him and forget everyone else's opinion. Besides, I thought you and Riley made a good couple – and look how badly that turned out. Who's to say my judgement of Angel is any less flawed. Only you know how much you love him – and from what little I've heard, I'm guessing that's a great deal."

"Yes," I answer in a voice no louder than a whisper. "Thank you Giles."

"You're welcome," he replies warmly. "Now I'll be seeing you in Sunnydale soon, I hope."

"Tomorrow," I promise. "Bye now."

"Goodbye," I hear down the line, followed by the telltale click of the receiver being replaced.

~~~

"Wow," Willow exclaims, hugging me tightly. "I don't know what to say. Should I be happy or sad?"

I pull away from her, smiling. "A little of both I think. I'm sorry for the way things turned out between Riley and I, but I'm not sorry Angel and I ended up together."

I turn to take his hand, and he plants a soft kiss on my forehead. "It's not over yet, remember."

I grimace in response, filling Willow in on the situation. "Riley's flying over tomorrow so we can 'discuss a few things'," I make little quote marks in the air with my fingers. "Which I'm guessing isn't going to be pleasant."

Willow flashes me a sympathetic glance. "I guess the ends of marriages never are."

I shake my head, remembering the Hell that was my parents divorce and how I used to hide away in my room, night after night, with my pillow held over my ears just so I wouldn't hear their arguing anymore. "I'm just grateful that Caleb's too young to be aware of any of this," I look down at my son sleeping peacefully, blissfully ignorant of all the turmoil going on around him.

"What's going to happen with Caleb?" Willow enquires. 

I shrug, suddenly feeling a little lost and glad of Angel's gentle support at the small of my back. "I don't know. Riley said he'd fight for him, but that was before… I just really have no idea." I take a deep breath, steadying myself. "Anyway, I didn't come visit you to be all depressed, I wanted to say thank you."

"Thank you?" Willow questions.

"Yep," I force a little cheerfulness. "Thanks for sorting out Angel's curse. We appreciate it, really."

Angel wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my shoulder. "Very much so."

Willow blushes a deep shade of pink. "Well, uh, it was no problem. I'm just glad to help really…"

"Well, we're glad to have you helping," I reach out and touch her arm gently.

"Have you told your Mom yet?" Willow asks, inviting us both to sit down.

I make a face. "I ran that particular gauntlet this morning. Needless to say she wasn't happy – especially with the 'me and your grandson are going to live with Angel at the mansion' part. There was some yelling over that one – but she came around eventually."

"Buffy can yell louder," Angel supplies not very flatteringly and I lean over to hit him in mock annoyance. "Hey – whatever happened to that loving support you're supposed to be providing me with in my time of crisis?"

"It got used up babysitting Caleb all day," he shoots back with a grin. I'd be offended, except for the amazing consideration Angel has shown with my son. Most men wouldn't go within a mile of a woman with somebody else's seven-month-old baby, but Angel doesn't seem to care. He treats Caleb like he's made of glass, some precious object that would break if he dared handle it without total reverence and care. And this morning when I had asked him to watch the baby whilst I talked to Mom, he looked so incredibly flattered that I considered him worthy of the task, that I'm convinced he couldn't possibly have minded it. 

"So, she's okay now, though?" Willow interrupts my Angel-musings. 

"Yeah," I offer a small reassuring smile. "She just needs to get used to the idea. I'm sure when she gets to know Angel she'll love him just as much as I do."

Angel flashes me an incredulous look and I grin back. "Well, perhaps not quite as much as I do. 'Cause that would be a little on the disturbing side."

Caleb wakes up and starts to cry, so I get up and tend to him, whilst Angel and Willow continue to talk. Carrying the baby into the Willow's kitchen I start to make him up a bottle of formula, finding the mundane task ridiculously satisfying. For once I am actually enjoying being a Mom, taking pleasure in all the little things that used to drive me to distraction. In fact, I am enjoying a lot of things at the moment, and not just the obvious – like my new (and very much improved) relationship with Angel – but all the stuff that goes in between too. Just waking up in the morning is nice now, knowing that I am close to the people I love and not living a lie anymore. I guess I'm happy. 

The feeling doesn't last all the time – it begins to fade whenever Riley is mentioned, or when I start worrying about Caleb's future. But I find it coming more and more often now. It creeps up on me when I least expect it and suddenly I look in the mirror and there's a smile on my face. It's amazing and I'm pretty clear on who it's all due to.

Hands land lightly on my shoulders and lips briefly press themselves against my cheek. "Need any help in here?" Angel asks.

I twist around to return the small kiss. "No it's okay, I think I've got this covered. You go back and talk to Willow."

"He can talk to me from there," Willow says from the doorway. "We thought we'd bring the party in here – keep you company."

"Thanks guys," I smile at them gratefully. "Thanks for everything."

~~~

I had insisted to Angel that I could do this alone and that I didn't need him here with me, but now I'm not so sure. Rationally, I know that his presence would only have caused further upset with Riley and that he couldn't have come anyway, since Riley insisted upon a daylight meeting in full sunlight. But I miss the feel of Angel's hand in mine, his steadying influence that calms my nerves and the silent support he is so expert at providing. In summary, I just don't like being away from him, especially during such an emotional time. 

When I finally got up the nerve to call Riley, after three days of avoiding him and living in denial with Angel (and a very nice place it was too), he was already yelling about lawyers and legal action and how I had kidnapped his son. He wanted to slap a court case on me right there and then, until I reminded him how twenty people had seen him attack me and what was the judge going to say to that. 

Silence stretched long and echoing down the other end of the line, which I finally broke by suggesting a meeting. We should be able to work something out without getting the lawyers involved, I proposed reasonably. We just have to be able to sit down and have a rational discussion – difficult as that may be.

"Hi," I greet Riley stiffly, sitting down opposite him in the open-air café. 

"Buffy," he returns with no small degree of hostility. "Where's Caleb – you haven't left my son with _him _have you?"

"Mom's looking after him," I reply coolly, trying to ignore his slight on Angel. "I thought it would be better if we spoke alone."

He nods, fidgeting briefly with the saltshaker laid out on the table. Then he looks up with hard eyes. "I don't want that _thing _anywhere my child."

My anger rises. "How dare you…" I start to yell, and the people on the neighbouring table turn around. "How dare you call Angel that?" I continue in a lower voice. "He's more of a man than you are."

"He's not a man at all," Riley hisses back. "He's a vampire – a cold blooded killer. He may have you fooled, but I won't have your naivety harming my son."

"This isn't about Angel," I refuse to get drawn into an argument I can never win against Riley. He will never understand about Angel's soul or ever even see the black and white of the matter. His point of view just too closed and prejudiced. He only perceives things in his own ingrained, small-minded way, and there's no changing that. "This is about you and me."

"No, Buffy," he shakes his head. "It was never you and _me_. It was always you and Angel – I was just some sort of temporary distraction, someone to turn to when he'd decided he was done messing with your head. You never planned to get pregnant, you never wanted Caleb in the first place, so what's the big deal about him now?"

I lean over the table, grabbing Riley's wrist and twisting until I know it hurts him. "Caleb's my baby and I _refuse _to give him up to you. If you want a fight then I'll give you one." I let go of him and stand up, storming away from the table.

"Buffy wait!" He calls after me, his voice suddenly small and defeated. "I don't want a fight."

I spin around on him, expecting some other scheme or tactic to get me to give way on this issue. What I see instead, however, is a man deeply in pain following the loss of his wife and child. 

"I never wanted to fight with you Buffy," He admits. "I wanted us to be happy, to be a family. But that dream sort of got lost along the way, didn't it?" I move hesitantly back to the table, sitting down once more. "Did you ever love me?" He continues.

I answer carefully, not wanting to cause him any more pain than I have already. "I thought I did – at one time. But I never stopped loving Angel either."

He sighs long and hard. "I don't pretend I understand it, but I'm going to have to accept it."

I nod. "Yes, you are."

"So, what do you think we should do now?"

~~~

I kick back on the bed in the mansion, my body exhausted after a tough evening slaying, but my mind still racing, unable to calm down. It's Saturday night, so Caleb is with Riley for the weekend. He's renting a place in the next town along until he can settle there permanently. We decided he should be near, so that Caleb could get to know his real father, but not too close in Sunnydale itself, because of the inevitable clashes with Angel that would arise. As long as the two of them ignore each other's existence as much as possible then peace seems to reign. Of course, it's only been a few weeks since we began the arrangement – there are still plenty of problems to encounter yet.

Angel walks into the room, dressed ready for bed in only a pair of boxer shorts and a silk robe. He slips the robe off down muscular shoulders, leaving it slung casually over the back of a chair, and my stomach flip-flops. No matter how many times I get to see Angel's body (or how intimate I become with it) it will always amaze me. He is – and I know I sound like a bad romance novel here – truly magnificent and just the sight of him takes my breath away. Suddenly I am not quite so tired as I thought I was. 

"Hey there," I sidle up to him as he climbs beneath the sheets, sliding my hand across his sculpted chest.

"Buffy," he smirks back at me, one eyebrow raised. 

"So, here we are, all alone in this big house," I trace patterns on skin with my fingers. "I wonder what we could possibly find to occupy ourselves."

"We could talk," he suggests.

I pull away from him, making a face. "Talk?"

"Yeah," he pulls me gently back, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. "About you."

I turn to look at him questioningly. "What about me?"

"About what you want for the future."

"You know what I want for the future."

He meets my gaze. "Do I?"

"Yes," I nod, absolutely sure of myself. "You. I want you and all of this. I want to carry on as I am now, with my son and my Slaying and our relationship. I was thinking about going back to college too, in case you were interested."

"You're sure?"

"About college?" I ask, scrunching up my nose. "I hadn't really decided yet – I was going to look into part-time courses – "

"No," Angel interrupts softly. "Are you sure about me?"

I smile tenderly, touched by his self-doubt. "Of course I'm sure – I've been sure for years, it's only you who's had issues with us. Oh, and I don't think Riley was too convinced either, but divorcing him seems to be the solution there."

"But I still can't give you a normal relationship…"

"You're not going to start that crap again," I sigh exasperatedly. "I had a normal relationship. It sucked. I want you back. The curse isn't an issue any longer. I don't want any more children – one is quite enough of a handful. And I don't care about sunlight or whatever other problems you can think of. I just care about us being together."

"Good," Angel sounds relieved. "Because I was worried, you know, that maybe you'd come to change your mind."

I kiss him tenderly on the nose, laughing slightly. "Nothing could ever make me change my mind about you. Besides, what more could I possibly want other than to live in a gothic mansion with the man of my dreams?" I pause briefly, touching his arm reassuringly. "I'm happy – believe me."

He nods. "I do. Or at least I try to, anyway."

"What about you?" I ask. "Is this want you want? Are you happy?"

He fixes me with an intense gaze, his eyes brimming over with love and devotion. "Never doubt it for a second."

"Ah yes," I smile wickedly. "But are you perfectly happy?" I flash him a seductive glance, going back to my original plan.

He grins in return, leaning over to whisper in my ear. "Not yet, but we've got plenty of time to remedy that."

THE END

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!


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